


hold my hand and fly (never say goodbye)

by fakecharliebrown



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, But also, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fae & Fairies, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Injury Recovery, Introspection, Kageyama Tobio is Bad at Feelings, Light Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Nonbinary Hinata Shouyou, Nonbinary Kita Shinsuke, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing a Bed, but maybe thats just me, i am not immune to cliches, i mean i personally dont think its that bad, literally who would i be if that wasnt in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28171974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakecharliebrown/pseuds/fakecharliebrown
Summary: Shouyou frowned. “Where are you going with this?”“Dumbass!” Kageyama snapped. “Isn’t it obvious? If I help you fly higher, I’ll be able to prove I’m a team player and go back to being a real windcarrier, and you’ll learn to fly higher!”Now Shouyou was beginning to understand, too. “And if I can fly higher, my flowers will bloom bigger and they’ll have no choice but to put me back on the flower fairies!” they cheered. “I’ll be just like the Tiny Sunflower!” They punched Kageyama in the arm. “Bakageyama, you’re a genius!”or; Hinata Shouyou wants to prove they can be a great flower fairy, Kageyama Tobio wants to prove he can work with others, and in the end they both get far more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41
Collections: Kagehina Big Bang 2020





	hold my hand and fly (never say goodbye)

**Author's Note:**

> title from "how to believe" by bridgit mendler :>

A gentle breeze blew through the clearing, ruffling flower petals and carrying the lilting, melodious tune of early spring as it passed through. Shouyou tipped their head back toward the sky and breathed deep, letting their eyes fall closed as a sense of tranquility filled them to the tips of their fragile wings. 

Spring, in Shouyou’s opinion, always brought with it the loveliest of things: flowers, new life, new beginnings, and the faint scent of cherry blossoms clinging to the wind. They lay back on the surface of the flower where they’d landed, feeling the pollen brush up against their skin and hair and clothes and embrace them with its familiar fragrance. Maybe, as a spring fairy, they were a little biased, but Shouyou privately thought that spring was and always would be the best season. They knew their friends—Yachi and Suga, the autumn fairies; Yamaguchi and Noya, the summer fairies; and Kenma, the winter fairy—would all disagree with them, but they didn’t really mind, in all honesty. They couldn’t  _ force  _ them to be right. 

And besides—every season had something beautiful to offer the world. Spring just happened to come with everything Shouyou had ever wanted—the sunshine, the morning dew, the blossoming flowers, even the rainfall that their flowers craved. Truly, spring could never do anything wrong. 

Something poked them in the ribs. Shouyou cracked open an eye to see Kenma hovering above them, his wings working overtime in the heat of the sun. Shouyou sat up and scooted over, patting the space beside them on the flower’s head to make room for their friend; flying outside of one’s native season was always harder on fairies, and Shouyou didn’t want to inconvenience Kenma. 

“Shouyou,” Kenma said, settling on his knees. Winter fairies were so gentle and quiet, they all seemed to have the innate ability to sneak up on Shouyou. Though, Daichi (and Suga, and Yachi, and Yamaguchi) would probably tell them that it was because Shouyou had their own innate ability to zone out and become completely unaware of their surroundings. 

But that’s neither here nor there. 

Shouyou smiled, running a hand through their hair. “Hi, Kenma! What brings you to the daisy meadow today?” 

Kenma blanked in the face of Shouyou’s enthusiasm. He’d been spending far too much time with the other winter fairies if he had forgotten how bright and sunshiney Shouyou could be. Kenma flushed slightly, averting his eyes. “I swear, you should’ve been a summer fairy,” he mumbled. He tugged on a lock of two-toned hair. “But that’s not why I’m here. Kuroo sent me to get you.” 

Shouyou frowned. Kuroo was a winter fairy; what did he want with a spring fairy? “What for?” 

Kenma shrugged. “Something about Daichi? I dunno.”

Shouyou shrugged and stood up, stretching and bending over to grab their toes and limber up before they had to take flight. The winter fairies’ domain was a far flight, and while Kenma would get stronger the closer they came to such a dark and dim part of the forest, Shouyou would only get weaker. Kenma watched them curiously before he pushed himself to his feet as well and offered Shouyou his hand. Shouyou beamed and took their friend’s hand, interlacing their fingers. Kenma flushed again, flustered, then mumbled a quick warning before taking flight. Shouyou was quick to propel themself up and after the other fairy. 

Flying was another one of those things Shouyou couldn’t get enough of. The feel of the wind rushing past them, the smell of a million different flora passing beneath them, the warmth of the sun on their back and their wings as the breeze carried them toward their desired destination. Today was no different; Shouyou released Kenma’s hand after a few moments spent airborne, and quickly rotated onto their back to watch the fluffy clouds soar by overhead. It was the perfect day, in their opinion: not too many clouds, but not so little that the sun was overbearing. The limbo period between the end of winter and the beginning of spring’s dry period was Shouyou’s favorite part of the year. 

Every once in a while, at times like this, Shouyou couldn’t help but wish they were a different sort of spring fairy; all the fairies of each season had specific roles, designated by whatever they were seen to be best at when they first arrived in the forest of the fairies. The flowers that had bloomed beneath each and every one of Shouyou’s footsteps had shown everyone who and what they were meant to be, long before they could take any of the tests, but Shouyou envied the cloudmakers and the windcarriers, and all of the other fairies who spent each and every day up in the sky, their wings carrying them higher than Shouyou could ever imagine. 

They loved their flowers, of course, but—they couldn’t help the lingering feeling that there was something they were missing, way up high above the clouds. They wondered how the clouds would feel between their fingertips. They wondered what it would feel like to be so close to the sun that they could reach out and just—

“Shouyou,” Kenma murmured, grabbing their wrist and turning them over again just in time for Shouyou to glance up and narrowly avoid colliding with an abnormally high branch. Judging by the spindliness of it, Shouyou gauged that the two of them had reached the part of the forest that the winter fairies claimed as their domain. Now that they’d been made aware of how everything beneath them was so dark and dreary and cold, Shouyou could feel that familiar ache in their bones and lag in the flutter of their wings. They clung a little tighter to Kenma but adamantly avoided eye contact when their friend glanced at him quizzically. No way were they admitting the effect that this section of the forest had on them, especially not when Kenma came all the way to the meadow to find Shouyou by himself. 

“Are we almost there?” Shouyou asked, peering curiously down at the passing forest beneath them. The winter forest looked so much less lively when it wasn’t, well,  _ winter.  _ In the winter, and sometimes even late fall, everything in the winter forest was covered in sparkling frost, the trees gleaming under the bright sunlight. The fairies’ wings moved so fast, they generated heated mist clouds in the air, leaving trails as they flitted this way and that. The ground was perpetually covered in a shining blanket of white snow, as were the branches covered in an inch-thick layer. The snow, Shouyou knew from experience, was fluffy enough to support a fall from the heights, but the branches were unforgiving and the cold was merciless. 

Shouyou didn’t spend very much time in the winter domain anymore. 

Now that it was spring, it was almost as if all of the life and quiet beauty had been removed from the winter domain as easily as lifting the blanket its snow resembled. The ground was left damp from the melted snow, the underbrush browning and dark and desaturated from so long without the sun. Except, it was still too cold here for anything to grow and bloom, and so the trees remained spindly and bare, the ground remained dark and decaying, and the entire domain seemed dreary and unkind. The kind of place a spring fairy as bright as Shouyou, without a doubt, did  _ not  _ belong in. 

The spring fairies, especially those in charge of flowers and other flora, were known for their bright colors and high energy and light spirits. There wasn’t any part of a flora fairy that was dark, from the hair to the constant shimmering light of their wings. The only other fairies whose wings gave off a slight glow were the sky fairies in charge of the stars and the moon and sun. Shouyou admired the starcatchers as much as they did the windcarriers and cloudmakers, especially since they knew Yamaguchi, who was in charge of the galaxy of summer stars. 

Kenma was probably the most unusual winter fairy that Shouyou had ever seen. With his two-toned, light hair, and his smaller stature, he resembled an autumn or summer fairy more than a winter fairy; winter fairies tended to have dark hair, and tall and broad figures, though Shouyou had never truly understood why. They knew that they were small for a spring fairy, but they didn’t see a reason why the winter fairies wouldn’t all be small. Spring fairies had to be large enough to be able to help the flowers bloom to their brightest, fullest potential; all of Shouyou’s flowers blossomed on the smaller side. 

Kenma hummed noncommittally, but Shouyou could feel that they were beginning their descent, flying closer to the trees. Were they in any other part of the forest, Shouyou might’ve lowered a hand to skim the leaves as he flew overhead. In the winter domain, though, there were no leaves to skim; Shouyou wondered how the winter fairies could survive living in a such bleak place. Especially fairies like Bokuto, who had enough energy to be a summer fairy, at least. 

Kenma led them to a large tree in what Shouyou assumed was the center of the winter domain, its trunk at least double the size of the spring fairies’ headquarters. There was a large knot near the bottom, which revealed a hollow trunk behind it. The tree twisted unusually, as if it had once grown beside other trees, their trunks intertwining with each other, but it had since been left to grow on its own. Shouyou wondered if it even still grew; they knew that the spring and summer headquarters did, but the autumn one, as far as they knew, had remained the same for a very long time. At least, Yachi never told them about it growing or changing in any way, shape, or form. It wouldn’t surprise them if their hollow tree was not only hollow but dead, a testament to the life that had once bloomed in this part of the forest but had long since moved over to make room for the icy chill of winter.

Shouyou lifted their eyes to glance all around him. For a place that externally seemed so dead and dilapidated, the winter domain was teeming with life. Everywhere they looked, they could see fairies flitting this way and that, sitting on branches and generating frost between the palms of their hands before they released a single snowflake into the air and watched it melt with a strange look on their faces. The expression resembled concentration, as well as what Shouyou could only call boredom. They supposed it made sense; while the spring fairies were busy all year round, planting seeds and tending old plants that were meant to return with the call of spring, only the cloudmakers and windcarriers had jobs leftover once winter ended. The frost fairies and the snow fairies were left with nothing to do. And while Shouyou knew that Kenma, a notoriously lazy frost fairy, enjoyed the time off, they also knew that if Bokuto weren’t a windcarrier, he would’ve lost his mind with so much downtime on his hands. To be honest, Shouyou probably would’ve, too. 

“Kuroo’s in there,” Kenma informed him. Shouyou nodded and followed as Kenma started toward the knot at the base of the tree’s trunk. The two of them walked into the dim light of the tree’s interior, climbing the winding tree trunk until they reached the flat base where Kuroo and Daichi were waiting for them, alongside Suga, Oikawa, and Ushijima. The most important fairies across the different seasons. 

No pressure. It wasn’t like Shouyou was an under-performing spring fairy and Kenma was an unmotivated winter fairy, both of whom had no business being as close to so many important fairies as they currently were. 

Daichi offered Shouyou and Kenma an easy smile at the sight of the two of them and gestured to the toadstools conveniently situated across from the panel of higher-ups. Kenma took his seat, immediately slouching and resting his elbows on his knees, whereas Shouyou stumbled over to the toadstool beside him and sat down, stiff and uncomfortable. Something akin to amusement glittered in Kuroo’s eyes, while something curious shone in Oikawa’s. Ushijima looked stoic and disinterested. Suga offered Shouyou a little wave and a smile, which Shouyou returned awkwardly. 

“There’s no need to be nervous,” Daichi started. “Neither of you have done anything wrong.” 

Shouyou tried to breathe out some of the tension, but their spine remained rigid. They could feel their wings flutter nervously behind them, ruffling their hair just slightly. Kenma nudged him, but Shouyou didn’t think anything short of leaving would soothe the churning of their stomach. 

Daichi grimaced, exchanging glances with Suga. Suga straightened up slightly, adopting a gentle smile. His calming presence settled Shouyou’s nerves just enough to ease their tense shoulders, but it wasn’t enough to relax their spine and stall the knotting in their gut. “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” Suga said, taking over for Daichi. Kenma lifted his gaze, half-listening out of interest. Shouyou felt like everything was being filtered through white noise, unable to ignore the presence of so many important eyes watching their every move. Suga smiled again, nodding at Shouyou as if to say,  _ it’s alright.  _ Despite themself, Shouyou felt themself relaxing into more of a natural slouch than the rigidly straight spine they'd had a moment ago.

“Kenma,” Kuroo interrupted, “to be honest, this doesn’t really concern you. We just needed you to bring Hinata.” 

Shouyou blinked and looked over at Kenma, who stretched, languid and catlike, before he stood up and left the room, his wings fluttering lightly behind him. Shouyou thought they saw him yawn, despite it being relatively early in the day. 

Shouyou watched him go before they turned back to the panel across from them. “What’s going on?” they asked, hesitant. 

Suga’s expression softened. “Well, you see, there’s—um—I don’t know how to tell you this, Hinata, but we’ve decided to demote you.” 

Shouyou’s mind short-circuited. “You’re...demoting me?” 

Suga nodded. Daichi patted Suga’s shoulder, but he wasn’t smiling. There was an apologetic gleam in his eyes. “Your flowers just aren’t cutting it anymore,” he explained. “They’re too small.” 

“But I’m a flower fairy,” Shouyou protested. “You can’t just—put me somewhere else. I can’t do anything else.” 

“We know,” Suga replied, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. For some reason, the action only served to make Shouyou feel  _ more  _ hopeless. They knew their flowers were small, but they were all so  _ bright.  _ They were sure that more than made up for it. “You won’t be taken out of the flora rotation entirely. Just—you’ll have less responsibility.” 

“Less responsibility,” Shouyou echoed. This had to be some sort of mistake. There was no way they were  _ demoting them.  _ The only thing below flower fairies were the—

“You’ll be in charge of the weeds,” Oikawa added. There was that strange gleam in his eyes again, as if Shouyou was a puzzle he couldn’t quite put together. Shouyou wanted to throw pollen in his eyes, his nose, his mouth; anything to wipe that look off of his face. Oikawa, unaware of Shouyou’s internal monologue, waved a hand. “Dandelions, small wildflowers, things like that.”

“Weeds?” Shouyou asked, and no, their voice did  _ not  _ break and they were  _ not  _ going to cry. 

“Sorry, Hinata,” Daichi said. “We just think there’s someone else on the weed team who could do better in your position.” 

Shouyou stared. After a few beats passed, Suga stood up and crossed over to Shouyou, taking them by the elbow and helping them to their feet. He guided Shouyou to the exit, squeezed their shoulder, and murmured another, more sincere apology, before he returned to his seat beside Daichi and left Shouyou to make themself scarce. 

Kenma was waiting at the base of the trunk, laying on one of the tree’s roots and staring up at his fellow winter fairies as they practiced their frost. He glanced up at Shouyou, and wordlessly moved over and opened his arms. Shouyou took the spot beside their friend, but rather than look up, they buried their face in Kenma’s chest and allowed Kenma to wrap them in a tight hug. 

They didn’t need to look up anymore, anyway. The only thing closer to the ground than weeds was the dirt itself. 

Shouyou knew that they were intact, but still, a spike of pain lanced through their wings as if they’d been cut to the very place where they branched out of his back. 

-

“It’s not so bad,” Yamaguchi tried, smiling hesitantly down at Shouyou as he swirled his hands and generated the bright light of a new star. Shouyou lifted their eyes and watched as Yamaguchi lifted himself to his high ceiling, carefully arranging the star and murmuring to it softly before he floated back down to the ground beside Shouyou. Shouyou leaned their head back against the wooden floors of Yamaguchi’s home. The starcatchers stayed in wooden homes, while the flower fairies lived in the bells of tulips. Now that Shouyou was a weed fairy, they weren’t sure where they were supposed to live. Daichi would probably show them, was probably waiting for them to return at that very moment, but Shouyou had gone straight from winter to summer and was therefore too weak to fly home. Which was fine, really; home wasn’t home anymore. They weren’t  _ supposed  _ to be a weed fairy. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Shouyou longed to be a flower fairy again. They used to hope to be a fruit-bringer, but only summer and autumn fairies got that luxury. The best they could ever hope for, the highest they could ever fly, was the tip of a sunflower. 

“At least you’re still flora?” Yamaguchi said, poking Shouyou with his toe. Shouyou hummed. 

“You don’t get it,” they muttered, turning on their side and curling up. “I’m a  _ flower fairy.  _ I don’t make weeds grow, I make flowers  _ blossom.  _ My flowers are brighter than everybody else’s. I should be a flower fairy! I shouldn’t be in charge of a bunch of—I dunno— _ dandelions.”  _

Yamaguchi sighed. “I guess you’re right. I still don’t really get why they demoted you, though.” 

“Because I’m not big enough,” Shouyou huffed. “As if I can help that.” 

“Maybe there’s a way to make the flowers grow big and tall anyway,” Yamaguchi suggested. “If you could make your flowers even bigger and better than everybody else’s, they’d have to give you your job back, right?” 

Shouyou opened their mouth to refute, to say it was impossible, but—was it, really? They were born as small as they were, and flowers bloomed beneath their feet before they had even fully reached the forest of the fairies. They were  _ destined  _ to be a flower fairy, just as much as they were meant to be small in stature. So surely, there had to be a way to make their flowers grow the same way everyone else’s did. No—there had to be a way to make their flowers  _ better.  _

Shouyou was born with a natural affinity for flowers that no other flower fairy at the time had ever possessed. They were also born small. They knew for a fact that no two fairies were the same, so there  _ had  _ to have been another flower fairy who was undersized, just like them. And if they could find them, then they could find a way to succeed and get their job back. 

Shouyou bolted upright, already heading for the door. Their wings shuddered, and they dropped slightly, but they picked themself up before they could fall far. 

“Wait—where are you going?” Yamaguchi called. 

“The archives!” Shouyou replied, already out of hearing range. Shouyou couldn’t have been the first flower fairy who wasn’t big and tall and broad like all the others. There had to have been more like them. 

-

The archives were located at the edge of the autumn domain, in an old hollow tree that reminded Shouyou of the winter fairies’ headquarters. Shouyou landed lightly once they’d arrived at the base of the tree, choosing to instead climb up the trunk rather than exhaust their wings any more than they already had that day. 

Once they arrived in the main part of the tree, where books upon books were stacked and shelved and currently being organized by various autumn fairies that Shouyou didn’t recognize, they made a beeline for the spring fairies section, specifically the books dedicated to flower fairies. There weren’t as many books as they’d been counting on, or even expecting; in fact, this section of the library seemed to be the smallest, for some reason. Were the flower fairies just never researched or documented? Shouyou supposed that flower fairies didn’t have a lot of time to sit down for an interview, given that they were working all year round, but still—this seemed unreasonable. 

Shouyou huffed a sigh and pulled out the first book, scanning its cover before they slid it back onto the shelf and moved on. 

“Hinata Shouyou,” a familiar voice drawled, and Shouyou stiffened. “I didn’t know you knew how to read.” 

Shouyou stuffed down the scathing retort and turned around, flashing Tsukishima a bright smile. “Tsukki!” they chirped. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” 

Tsukishima, one of Yamaguchi’s very best friends and Shouyou’s sort-of-not-really friends, was a summer fairy, although he had the disposition and demeanor of an autumn fairy. He was a moonlight fairy, and he had worked closely with Yamaguchi for as long as Shouyou could remember. His skills with the moon and its phases were admirable, but Shouyou privately thought that his attitude left much to be desired. 

Tsukishima scowled and rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that. What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be off ruining the aesthetic of a flower meadow?” 

Shouyou frowned. “I’m researching. Honestly, what do you wear those glasses for, if not to see?” 

Tsukishima’s scowl deepened. Shouyou felt a spike of satisfaction warm their gut at the sight of the growing annoyance on the taller fairy’s face. 

“What are you researching?” Tsukishima asked, looking like he’d rather throw Shouyou out the window. Shouyou wondered why they weren’t before he remembered: Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were best friends. Yamaguchi probably sent Tsukishima after Shouyou to make sure they didn’t wear themself out. 

Shouyou turned back to the books in front of them. “Flower fairies.” 

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I can see that. What  _ about  _ flower fairies?”

Shouyou hesitated. They could admit the truth to Tsukishima, but they’d never live it down once Tsukishima knew that Shouyou had been demoted because, put simply, their flowers weren’t good enough. But they also weren’t a very good liar, something all of their friends could attest to. “I want to see if there were any other flower fairies like me,” they said, carefully skirting around the truth. They hoped Tsukishima wouldn’t care enough to pry. 

“Like you,” Tsukishima echoed, his voice a bored deadpan.

Shouyou turned and glared up at him. Realization dawned on Tsukishima’s face, followed quickly by amusement. 

“Oh,” he snorted, “you mean  _ short  _ flower fairies. Or  _ useless  _ flower fairies. Maybe even  _ stupid.”  _

Shouyou huffed. “Just because we’re in the archives doesn’t mean I won’t fight you, Stupid-shima.” 

Tsukishima’s face dropped into his usual bored/annoyed expression. “Whatever, idiot.” He scanned the wall of books in front of them, reached up higher than Shouyou could ever hope to, and pulled out a very small, very thin, twine-bound book. He dropped it heavily into Shouyou’s hands, before spinning on his heels and heading out of the aisle once again. “That’ll be a good place to start.” He paused just before he was out of hearing range, and said over his shoulder, “This never happened.” 

And then he was gone. 

Shouyou blinked at the place Tsukishima had been less than a second ago before they turned their gaze down toward the book Tsukishima had given them. They ran a finger over the printed title of the book, murmuring its name under his breath. 

“ _ Blossoming,”  _ they whispered. “ _ The story of how the tiniest flower fairy grew the tallest sunflowers in the meadow.”  _

Shouyou paused for a moment, allowing the subtitle to sink in for a moment before they hurried over to the nearest table and sat down. They cracked open the book, releasing a cloud of dust. They wondered, briefly, how long it had been since the last person read this book before they brushed off the thought and began to read. 

Shouyou pored over the pages for what seemed like hours, absorbing the information about a fairy called the Tiny Sunflower, who was apparently one of the shortest flower fairies the spring domain had ever seen up to that point (even though he was still taller than Shouyou). His flowers were brighter than anybody else’s and even taller than the highest sunflower that bloomed under the magic of the tallest flower fairy. He was, in short, everything Shouyou had ever wanted to be. 

Shouyou flipped to the next page, eager to learn more, only to find that they’d finished the book. There was nothing else to learn about the Tiny Sunflower, nothing about  _ how  _ he managed to be so great. Shouyou huffed and closed the book, glancing up only to see that the archives had been deserted long ago, and night had fallen beyond the confines of the hollow tree. They frowned and felt a wave of fatigue wash over them. They yawned and stretched as they stood up. They moved to return the book to its rightful place on the shelf but hesitated. 

Five minutes later saw Shouyou flying home to the spring domain, the book about the Tiny Sunflower tucked under their arm. Daichi had left a note on Shouyou’s door, apparently sick of waiting for them, informing them that they would be relocated the next morning to live in the weed and small wildflower district. Which, of course, would make practicing their flower growing skills much harder. 

Shouyou sighed and ran a hand through their hair. They were a flower fairy, through and through. They just didn’t know how to show everyone else that. 

-

Shouyou frowned as they lifted their gaze to the sky, momentarily ignoring the dandelion at their feet that was impatiently brushing up against them, eager to sprout alongside all of the other weeds nearby. They could hear their fellow weed fairies flitting to and fro all around them, their wings buzzing like insects rather than fluttering softly like the flower fairies’ did. The sound was grating on Shouyou’s nerves. 

Their view of the sky was obscured by the flowers towering overhead, blossoming under the delicate control of the flower fairies they used to call coworkers and acquaintances. Shouyou longed to be up there with them, to help the flower buds bloom into something bright and vibrant and beautiful.

“Hey, Hinata,” a voice called. Shouyou turned to look for the source of the voice, only to find that it was—what was his name again? Oh, right, Akaashi. He was Bokuto’s friend, if Shouyou recalled correctly. “Stop spacing out so much.” He paused, a strange look coming over his face. “It’s not so bad down here with the weeds.” 

Shouyou tilted their head to the side curiously. Akaashi took in their confusion and shrugged, turning back to the wildflower in front of him. 

“You don’t get diversity like this up by the flowers and the fruits,” he told Shouyou. He twirled his hand in a circular motion above the flower, flicking his wrist just so, and Shouyou watched as the wildflower bloomed, big and bright and beautiful. It was much smaller than the flowers Shouyou was used to, but still—he’d never seen a plant with gradient petals like this one. Akaashi’s wildflower opened with five petals like a periwinkle or a similar flower, its petals fading from pink at the very tips to a bright white near its base. It was breathtaking, how effortlessly Akaashi had made such a beautiful blossom. 

“Whoa!” Shouyou gushed, jumping up and down with the force of their excitement. “That was so cool! You did that so easily! Can you teach me? Can you? Please?” 

Akaashi blinked, his eyes a touch wider than usual before his face returned to its usual calm expression. “It isn’t that difficult, really. It just takes a little practice.” He took a step back, revealing a bud eagerly awaiting its turn to blossom. “Try this one.” 

Shouyou swallowed nervously, approaching the bud. They crouched down in front of it, their hand flat on its head and feeling its energy buzzing with anticipation and excitement. The flowers and weeds and other plants weren’t quite sentient, per se, but they were still undeniably alive, and Shouyou could feel the life thrumming through each and every one of them if they concentrated hard enough. They could feel Akaashi’s eyes on them, observing their movements, but unlike the flower fairies, Akaashi didn’t call them out or even ask what they were doing. He was simply quiet, watching over Shouyou’s shoulder. 

Shouyou straightened up and removed their hand from the bud, raising a hand and pointing it downward like they used to when they helped the flowers grow with the other flower fairies. They took a deep breath before they quickly copied Akaashi’s circular movement with a little extra flourish when they flicked their wrist. The bud practically sprang open, its petals curling outward and its stem sprouting taller than even Akaashi’s had. Its petals were orange and yellow, unlike Akaashi’s, and they were just as vibrant as Shouyou remembered their flowers being. They rolled and rotated their wrist in their other hand, smiling down at their handiwork. 

“Your technique is flawed,” Akaashi said from behind them. Shouyou stiffened. 

“It’s—what?” they asked, dumbfounded.

Akaashi stepped forward, lifting one of the petals of the wildflower critically. “It’s flawed,” he repeated. “You’ll damage your wrists if you keep doing it like that. And while the flowers are aesthetically brighter and I guess larger, likely because you are used to flowers and not weeds and wildflowers, they are ultimately weaker.” To punctuate this statement, Akaashi tugged sharply on the petal in his hand, and it tore off as if it were no stronger than a sheet of frost at the end of winter. 

Shouyou could only stare, stunned speechless. 

“Don’t worry,” Akaashi said, patting them once on the shoulder. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually. Who knows, maybe you’ll even come to like it down here.” 

Shouyou stared at their mutilated wildflower, a bloom they had been so  _ proud  _ of five seconds ago, and their gut churned with a mix of anger, indignation, and utter hopelessness. If they couldn’t even help a measly wildflower grow, it was no wonder they demoted them. Their flowers would  _ never  _ measure up to those of the Tiny Sunflower. 

“You should get back to work,” Akaashi said, nudging them slightly back in the direction of the dandelion cluster Shouyou had been tending. “And remember to lighten up on the wrist movement in your technique.”

He flew away after a beat passed without a response from Shouyou, flitting off to tend a new batch of weeds now that his wildflowers had blossomed. Shouyou watched him flick a wrist in the direction of the flower Shouyou had blossomed mere moments ago, and right before their eyes, the flower changed its shape size and color until it was identical to the one Akaashi had done. 

Shouyou huffed and turned back to tend their dandelions. The sun was beating down particularly hard from above, and Shouyou wondered briefly if summer would come early this year. They hoped not; they wanted to be able to return to the flower fairies before the end of spring. An early summer only meant they had fewer chances of fulfilling that dream. 

The dandelions, in comparison to the flowers they were used to, looked remarkably bland. Shouyou turned their gaze to the sky at the same time a cool breeze blew through and ruffled their hair. They sighed. 

-

Suga arrived at Shouyou’s new home later that evening, followed closely by Daichi. The two of them came inside, offering Shouyou pleasant greetings and soft smiles as they always did, before taking their seats at the table. Shouyou made quick work of preparing tea for the three of them, sitting down across from their friends once everything was ready. 

“What do you guys know about the Tiny Sunflower?” Shouyou asked. Suga blinked at the same time Daichi frowned. 

“Who?” Suga asked. 

“He was a well-known flower fairy from the spring domain,” Daichi explained. “I think he retired from the flower fairies a few seasons ago, though.”

“Why?” Shouyou demanded, leaning forward slightly. “He was so good! He was better than everyone else, even!” 

Daichi chuckled. “I don’t know, Hinata. I never actually met the guy, he was before I was on the panel of seasons.”

Shouyou whined. “Don’t you know anyone who  _ would  _ know more about him?” 

Daichi thought for a moment, before he said, “I might, but why the sudden interest?”

“You want to be a flower fairy again, don’t you?” Suga guessed, frowning down at Shouyou. 

Shouyou huffed. “Of course I do! I was  _ born  _ to be a flower fairy! I’m supposed to be the best flower fairy the spring domain has ever seen! I can’t just spend the rest of my life tending  _ weeds!” _

“I think you’re blowing this more out of proportion than it needs to be,” Suga replied. “It’s not so bad down there. There are still wildflowers, after all.”

“Yeah, except wildflowers aren’t  _ real  _ flowers!” Shouyou retorted. “They don’t blossom like normal flowers, either! Trust me, I spent my morning getting told that my technique is terrible and will destroy not only my wrists but cause all of the weeds to be weaker than they’re supposed to be.”

“What did you expect?” Daichi asked, not unkindly. “This stuff is all new. Nobody expects you to get the hang of it in a day.”

Shouyou frowned. “You don’t get it. You’ve never been  _ too short  _ to do what you were born to do.”

Suga set down his cup of tea, sighing. There was a slight downturn of his lips, indicating his disappointment with—whether it was Shouyou’s attitude or the conversation, Shouyou couldn’t be sure. 

“Hinata,” Suga said, “this wasn’t a decision the panel made lightly. Your flowers just—aren’t big enough. It was okay when you were still new at this, but it’s been a year. You were supposed to be growing bigger flowers by now.”

“Nobody ever showed me how to!” Shouyou protested. “All of the other flower fairies are tall and never  _ needed  _ to learn how to make their flowers bigger, so they couldn’t teach me, and none of  _ you  _ could find me a teacher, so how was I ever supposed to improve?” 

“The Tiny Sunflower did,” Daichi said. Shouyou was quiet for a moment before they scowled. 

“Yeah, well, he retired years ago,” Shouyou huffed. “And there’s one book about him in all of the archives. I want to be the best flower fairy! You guys are supposed to the panel of seasons! You’re supposed to  _ help me,  _ not demote me to the  _ weeds.”  _

Suga sighed. “I’m sorry, Hinata.”

“Maybe we should go,” Daichi suggested. “The weed fairies start earlier than the flower fairies, don’t they?” 

Shouyou stared at the two of them before they sighed and stood up, taking their cups from them. “Yeah, they do. See you.” 

They followed the two of them to the door. Suga and Daichi left, Suga patting them once on the shoulder before Shouyou started to swing the door shut. Just before they closed it completely, they caught the beginning of a murmured conversation between their friends as they walked away from Shouyou’s home. 

“Maybe they’re right,” Suga murmured. “I mean, as the panel of seasons, isn’t it our job to nurture the seasonal fairies to reach their full potential?”

“Yeah,” Daichi replied, his voice hushed. “But Hinata needs to find their way on their own. They’re right when they say that there’s nobody who can teach them how to do this.”

Shouyou shut the door before they could catch Suga’s response.

-

Once they were certain that everyone in the spring domain was fast asleep, Shouyou snuck out of their home and crept onto their roof before they took flight, heading for the flowering meadows. They knew where to find the buds that hadn’t bloomed yet, and so they made a beeline for those. They landed gently on the nearest flower, a daisy that had blossomed quite beautifully. It seemed to have been recently, too. Shouyou wondered who they’d replaced them with. They wondered if their replacement was responsible for this daisy. They wondered what the daisy would’ve looked like if Shouyou had been responsible for its bloom. Would it be smaller? Weaker? 

Shouyou shook their head to clear the negative thoughts, biting their lip as they stared down at the buds waiting to blossom. If the taller fairies were better at tending the flowers, then wouldn’t Shouyou just have to fly  _ higher?  _ If Shouyou could only fly higher, would they be  _ better?  _

Shouyou turned their head toward the starry sky above them, furrowing their brow in concentration. Flower fairies did not fly very high. Shorter flower fairies like themself flew even lower than the average height. If they really wanted to be better and fly higher than they had before, they would have to break that limit. But was it even possible? Was there any way Shouyou could reach that high without being a cloudmaker or a windcarrier?

“Only one way to find out,” Shouyou muttered to themself, bending their knees in preparation for flight. With a quick burst of speed and one powerful wingbeat, Shouyou launched themself into the air, angling their body so that they could fly directly upwards. They climbed higher, higher, higher, until, abruptly, they could feel the resistance become too much for their weak wings and their wings gave out. They plummeted back toward the ground, landing on the surface of a daisy before they tumbled off to the unforgiving ground below. Shouyou lay there for several moments, willing air back into their lungs, and staring up at the sky as their determination diminished. 

Only slightly, though, for in the next moment, Shouyou was clambering back onto the tallest flower they could find to repeat the process all over again, down to the rough landing. Time and time again, Shouyou tried to propel themself higher than they’d ever flown and probably would ever fly, and time and time again, they fell to the ground. 

Then, when Shouyou finally felt themself breaking through that invisible barrier, their body collided with something else in midair and they were once again plummeting. Whatever they ran into let out a cry of shock and there was a sharp sound echoing around them—the sound of a windcarrier’s wings, they registered faintly—before there were two hands around their wrist hauling them up and onto a flower before they could well and truly hit the ground. Shouyou stared blankly at the sky above, even as their savior kicked them in the ribs. 

“Oi, dumbass!” their savior barked. “What the fuck were you doing up there, not even watching where you’re going? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” When Shouyou didn’t immediately respond, the windcarrier kicked them again. “Dumbass! Answer me!” 

Shouyou coughed and sat up, fending off another kick. “I was  _ trying  _ to fly higher, but  _ you  _ got in my way,” they huffed. 

The windcarrier’s eyes widened, his glare turning murderous. “ _ I  _ got in  _ your  _ way? You’re not even supposed to be up there! Dumbass!” 

“Is that your favorite word?” Shouyou spat. “I have a name, you know!” 

“No, I didn’t know!” the windcarrier retorted. “Because we  _ literally just met!”  _

Shouyou huffed. “It’s Hinata Shouyou, dumbass.” 

“Oi!” the windcarrier exclaimed. “I’m not the dumbass,  _ you’re  _ the dumbass!” 

“Tell me your name!” Shouyou demanded.

“No!” 

Shouyou kicked the other fairy in the shin. “Yes!” 

The windcarrier kicked them in the side. “No!”

Kick. “Yes!”

Kick. “No!”

Kick. “Yes!” 

Kick. “No!” 

Kick, kick. “Yes!”

Kick, kick, kick. “You can’t kick me twice! I’ll kill you! Dumbass!” 

From somewhere far away, a foreign voice bellowed, “Shut the fuck up! Some people are trying to sleep, you crazy bastards!” To punctuate the statement, a door slammed.

Shouyou huffed and turned to the windcarrier, crossing their arms over their chest. The windcarrier also had his arms crossed, his glare colder than anything in the winter domain. 

“It’s fucking Kageyama Tobio,” he snapped. “Dumbass.” 

Shouyou rolled their eyes. “Was that really so hard for you,  _ Bakageyama?”  _

Kageyama stared down at them with disgust in his eyes. “I should’ve let you fall.” 

“Maybe you should’ve just  _ not been in the way!”  _ Shouyou spat. Kageyama opened his mouth to retort, but he closed it and seemed to reconsider. 

“Why the fuck does a weed fairy like you want to fly so high anyway?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Shouyou let out an indignant noise. “I am  _ not  _ a weed fairy!” 

Kageyama blinked, unimpressed. “Really? I could’ve sworn that the weed fairies wore those colors.” 

Shouyou’s face burned with embarrassment. “This is temporary.” 

Kageyama squinted. “That sounds fake.” 

“It’s not fake!” Shouyou exclaimed. “What’s a windcarrier doing wearing breeze colors, if we’re getting technical? I heard your wings, I know you’re supposed to be carrying storms and flurries and not stupid cold breezes.” 

Kageyama scowled. “None of your fucking business, dumbass.” 

“You got demoted, didn’t you?” Shouyou asked, their voice pitched a little higher with glee. 

“So did you, dumbass!” Kageyama retorted. 

Shouyou’s glee dissipated faster than mist. They huffed, scowling to match Kageyama’s and crossed their arms over their chest. “My flowers weren’t tall enough,” they admitted. “So they kicked me down to the weeds, which I apparently suck at.” 

Kageyama glanced at them, a strange glint in his eyes. He was quiet for a moment before he sighed and took his seat beside Shouyou on the flower’s head. “The cloudmakers and the snow fairies refuse to work with me,” he confessed. “And a windcarrier with nothing to carry is useless.”

Shouyou didn’t know what to say to that, so they pressed their lips into a thin line and remained quiet. 

Kageyama frowned. “Apparently I’m not allowed to be a windcarrier until I prove I can be a ‘team-player.’” He scowled, making air-quotes around the last word. 

Shouyou hummed. “That sucks.” 

Kageyama grunted. The two of them lapsed into silence for several moments, until Kageyama jerked upright, an idea dawning on his face. 

Shouyou glanced at him and frowned. “What’s that face for?” 

Kageyama turned to them. “You want to fly higher,” he said. 

“Uh,” Shouyou said, “yeah?” 

“And  _ I  _ can fly higher and faster than most of the other windcarriers,” Kageyama continued. 

Shouyou frowned. “Where are you going with this?” 

“Dumbass!” Kageyama snapped. “Isn’t it obvious? If I help you fly higher, I’ll be able to prove I’m a team player and go back to being a real windcarrier, and you’ll learn to fly higher!” 

Now Shouyou was beginning to understand, too. “And if I can fly higher, my flowers will bloom bigger and they’ll have no choice but to put me back on the flower fairies!” they cheered. “I’ll be just like the Tiny Sunflower!” They punched Kageyama in the arm. “Bakageyama, you’re a genius!” 

Kageyama preened under the compliment. “I know,” he said smugly. “Dumbass.” 

Shouyou glared. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” For good measure, they added, “Bakageyama.”

Kageyama scowled. He opened his mouth to reply when a horn blew in the distance and drew their attention to the sun that was beginning to peek above the horizon. Kageyama glanced up and frowned before he turned back to Shouyou. “Meet me here tomorrow evening,” he instructed before he stood up and flew away, leaving Shouyou alone in the flower meadow. Shouyou stared after him for several seconds, before they remembered themself and hurried back home. One of the weed fairies would be by soon to pick them up for work, as was customary for the first week of their time as a weed fairy. 

Shouyou landed on their own front porch just before the sun was fully above the horizon, the sky a watercolor masterpiece of pale shades of peach and light pink and lavender. They thought of Kageyama, and the cold he radiated as a winter fairy, and his permafrown, and they couldn’t help the swirl of warmth in their chest. Kageyama could help them. Kageyama could  _ teach  _ them. 

And even without the help, there was just something about Kageyama that drew Shouyou to him. Something intriguing, something welcoming despite his prickly attitude. 

Kageyama was a winter fairy, a windcarrier, and he radiated a kind of cold Shouyou had never encountered before, and still the thought of him filled Shouyou with so much warmth they felt like the sun. 

“I’m going to be a flower fairy again,” Shouyou declared to no one in particular, grinning at the sun shining brightly in the quiet stillness of the early morning. “I will fly higher than even the Tiny Sunflower.” 

The morning sunlight did not offer a response. Shouyou did not wait for one. 

-

“It’s good to see you in such high spirits, Hinata, but what happened?” Yamaguchi asked the next time he and Shouyou met up. He was decorating his ceiling again, but it looked like he’d removed the stars that were up there the last time Shouyou visited. Shouyou twirled a small flower in their hand, helping it bloom before they’d close it again and repeat the process. 

“Nothing,” Shouyou chirped, closing the flower again. They’d been studying Akaashi’s movements lately, studying the way the other fairy moved his wrists and hands and arms all as one giant shift, rather than a swirling arm and  _ then  _ a flicked wrist, like Shouyou had seen many other flower fairies do, the way  _ Shouyou  _ used to do it. They took a deep breath, holding the image of Akaashi in their mind as they moved their hand, then opened their eyes only to see Yamaguchi staring at them strangely. “What?” Shouyou asked. 

Yamaguchi lifted a hand and pointed to the flower in Shouyou’s hand, dropping the star he’d been holding. He cried out, diving down to save it before it hit the floor at the same time Shouyou turned their attention to the flower. They nearly yelped in surprise at the sight of the bloom; the flower had changed  _ entirely.  _ Where before they’d been blossoming a miniature periwinkle over and over again, now they were cradling a type of wildflower they’d never seen before. It looked stronger than any flower Shouyou had ever grown before, something an experimental tug on the petal attested to. It was just as vibrant as all of their other flowers, only stronger and—did it look a little bigger?

“How did you even do that?” Yamaguchi wondered aloud, looking over Shouyou’s shoulder with the fallen star clutched in his hands. 

“I don’t know,” Shouyou replied, staring dumbfounded at the flower. It was breathtaking; it still had five petals like the periwinkle, but there was a small fruit blooming in the center instead of the normal pollen, and its petals were the most beautiful gradient that Shouyou had ever seen, fading from a rich, golden yellow at its center to a bright pink at their tips, a nice tangerine making up the middle of the petals. “I don’t even know what kind of flower this is.”

“Maybe it’s a weed?” Yamaguchi suggested. “There’s probably an almanac at the archives that could tell you.”

Shouyou blinked and turned to their friend, whose eyes widened a tiny bit as he seemed to realize his own words. 

“Hey, wait—that wasn’t me encouraging you to fly over to the autumn domain!” he called, but Shouyou was already out the door. “You’re gonna burn yourself out at this rate, Hinata!” 

“Last time!” Shouyou shouted over their shoulder. “I promise!” 

They thought they distantly heard Yamaguchi mutter, “Why do I feel like they’re lying?” but they were too far out of range to know for sure. In any case, they were now too focused to care about their friend’s criticism. If Shouyou could figure out what kind of flower this was, they might be able to figure out how to use that technique on a grander scale. They just hoped they weren’t holding a weed; if this turned out to be a small-time wildflower, then there would be no point, seeing as it wouldn’t work on regular flowers, anyway. 

Shouyou arrived at the archives a few minutes later, barely feeling the ache in their wings thanks to how focused they were on their personal mission. They made a beeline toward the spring section of the library, their feet coming to an abrupt halt when they realized who was in the section he’d been looking for. 

“Iwa-chan,” a familiar voice whined, but it was lacking the cold, curious inflection Shouyou remembered from their last encounter with the winter fairy. “How many more books do you  _ need?”  _

An unfamiliar voice huffed. “You’re such a child,” the voice snapped. “I  _ told  _ you not to come, I  _ told  _ you it’d be boring, and what did you go and do? You came anyway because I’m not the boss of you and you do what you want.”

Oikawa whined again, long and loud and high-pitched and, really, kind of annoying. Shouyou wondered if  _ they  _ were that annoying to their friends, since they’d been told more than once that they were also rather childish. 

“What are you even looking for?” Oikawa asked, ignoring ‘Iwa-chan’s’ insults. 

“Floral almanac,” his companion replied, and Shouyou stiffened. Did the library have more than one of those? They hoped so. 

Oikawa made a strange noise in the back of his throat. “What for? You’re a cloudmaker, Iwa-chan.” 

“Wow, thanks,” Iwa-chan drawled. “I wasn’t aware of what I’ve been doing with my life every day until you pointed that out.” 

Oikawa was quiet for a moment, before he muttered, “I don’t appreciate you.” 

“Then dump me,” Iwa-chan offered, sounding completely nonplussed about it. 

Oikawa gasped dramatically, and Shouyou was really starting to feel weird about eavesdropping on this conversation, so they took a deep breath and stepped into the aisle, immediately turning their eyes to the shelves. Oikawa and Iwa-chan both fell silent, and Shouyou could feel someone’s gaze on them, but they stared resolutely at the bookshelves, even going as far as to lift a finger to trace the spines of the books directly in front of them as if trying to read their titles. 

“Hinata?” Oikawa asked. Shouyou jerked and turned to look at him. He had his arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow raised. Next to him, Iwa-chan glanced between Oikawa and Shouyou with a curious, yet unimpressed look on his face before he rolled his eyes and went back to scanning the books for real. He wore the colors of a spring fairy, specifically the cloudmakers, just as Oikawa had said. “What brings you to this section of the library?” 

Taking a shot in the dark, Shouyou lied, “I’m trying to research more about weeds.” 

Oikawa’s eyebrow lifted a little higher. Apparently, Shouyou couldn’t lie to strangers, either. 

Shouyou presented the strange, new flower he’d bloomed earlier to the two fairies in front of him, both of whom looked at it curiously. “I was trying a new technique earlier tonight, when my periwinkle bud blossomed into—whatever this is,” they explained. “I was hoping to figure out what kind of flower it is.” 

Oikawa squinted at the flower for a moment, before he abruptly straightened up and raising his hands in apparent surrender. “Iwa-chan’s the spring fairy, not me.” 

Iwa-chan scowled. “I’m a  _ cloudmaker,  _ dumbass. I know as much about flowers as you do.” 

Oikawa pouted. “Just find the stupid almanac, would you?” 

Iwa-chan rolled his eyes and went back to studying the shelves. A few seconds later, he pulled out a book that Shouyou didn’t recognize, and he and Oikawa gestured for Shouyou to follow them over to one of the tables available. Shouyou took their seat across from them and watched as Iwa-chan flipped open the book, flicking through the pages with Oikawa looking over his shoulder. They were about halfway through the book when Oikawa grabbed Iwa-chan’s hand and said, “There!” 

Iwa-chan slid the book over to Shouyou. “There’s your flower. It’s apparently a pretty rare variety.”

Shouyou glanced down at the book, scanning the passage about their flower. Just as Iwa-chan had said, the flower was a rare one, so rare it hadn’t even been officially named yet, though the book called it a sunset blossom. Shouyou privately thought the book’s chosen name was a little cheesy, but they also supposed that they wouldn’t know what  _ else  _ to call it, so. It only bloomed under ‘very specific weather conditions’ which Shouyou knew was code for ‘only very specific blossoming techniques.’ Apparently, most flower fairies could never produce a sunset blossom in their lives, due to their improper technique, but nobody knew what the right technique would be. Well, nobody except for Shouyou, now.

Iwa-chan stood up, drawing Shouyou’s attention away from the book. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Oikawa’s forehead, taking his own selection of books with him. “I have to get going,” he said. “I’ll see you later, Tooru.” He paused, turning to Shouyou. “Oh, and by the way, my name’s Iwaizumi Hajime. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Shouyou stiffened. “N-Nice to meet you, too!” 

Oikawa was watching him, resting his chin in his hand with a glitter of amusement in his eyes when Shouyou finally turned back. “You’re really jumpy, you know that?” 

Shouyou flushed. “I am not!” they protested, lying through their teeth. Even  _ they  _ knew they were abnormally jumpy.

“Anyway,” Oikawa said, after a moment. His eyes fell on the flower in Shouyou’s hand, a strange expression taking over his face. “That’s not a weed, is it?” 

Shouyou hesitated. “No, it’s not.”

Oikawa frowned, just barely. Shouyou would’ve mistaken it for a twitch of his lips, had they not known the context of their conversation. “I assume I don’t need to remind you what will happen if you neglect your duties to the weed and small wildflower division?”

Shouyou shook their head. 

Oikawa nodded, standing as well. “Good,” he declared. He paused, and there was that odd glint in his eyes again like there was a riddle he couldn’t quite find the answer to. “That said—it’s the seasonal panel’s job to help their fairies flourish. You may not be one of my own, but—” He paused as if trying to piece his next sentence together. “You’ve heard of the Tiny Sunflower, yeah?” 

Shouyou nodded, unsure where the winter fairy was going with this. 

“And I assume you’ve also by now realized that there is a criminally small amount of literature about the Tiny Sunflower at the library?” Oikawa continued. 

Again, Shouyou nodded. 

Oikawa nodded again. “Right. Well, I might be able to help you find him if you really want to learn about how he was able to flourish despite his size.” Shouyou’s eyes widened, and they opened their mouth to say  _ yes, of course, let’s go right now,  _ but Oikawa lifted a finger and cut them off. “But before you say anything, I advise you think long and hard about which kind of fairy you wish to be, and who you want to learn from.” 

At Shouyou’s puzzled look, Oikawa reached forward and plucked the sunset blossom out of their hands, twirling it between his fingertips and squinting at it before he lowered it back onto the table and said, “You couldn’t make something like that until you met Akaashi. Remember that.” 

He was gone before Shouyou’s mind could come back online, leaving Shouyou completely and totally flabbergasted. They glanced at the sky beyond the archive’s hollow tree and realized with a start that they were going to be late to meeting with Kageyama if they didn’t leave right that second. Returning the almanac to its shelf and gathering their things, Shouyou flew as fast as they could toward the flower meadow, Oikawa’s words playing on an endless loop in their mind. 

-

Kageyama grunted as soon as Shouyou touched down on the daisy top where they’d agreed to meet. The flower meadow was fuller than it had been the last time Shouyou was here, a testament to how quickly the flower fairies worked. As far as the eye could see, there was no sign of any flowers being too short, too bright, too out-of-place. Not like when Shouyou worked in the meadows. The observation settled in Shouyou’s stomach like a stone, and a spike of phantom pain traveled up their wings, yet another reminder of how cruelly and abruptly the seasonal council had grounded them not two weeks ago. 

“You’re late,” Kageyama declared. 

“Sorry,” Shouyou replied, breathless. “I got—caught up.” 

Kageyama quirked an eyebrow, but he said nothing as he got to his feet. He stretched in preparation for the night of flight they had ahead of them, fluttering his wings lightly to warm them up. Shouyou watched him for a moment before they began to copy his movements, feeling their muscles protest so much movement after a long flight through the autumn domain. 

“You still remember the basics we’ve been working on?” Kageyama asked. Shouyou straightened up out of their stretch. 

“What basics?” they asked. 

Kageyama rolled his eyes. “Dumbass. I taught you how to take off, remember?” 

Shouyou wracked their brain, but they couldn’t quite recall what Kageyama had told them. 

Kageyama scoffed. “You’re so fucking stupid, of course you don’t remember.” 

“Hey!” Shouyou protested. “It’s not my fault! We always meet late at night, when I’m  _ tired!” _

“Then what are we doing this for, if you aren’t even going to bother to pay attention?” Kageyama demanded. “We aren’t going to get anywhere if you never actually learn anything, dumbass! I want to be a windcarrier again! I’m not going to let a dumbass like  _ you  _ slow me down!”

“Fine!” Shouyou huffed. “Tell me again, oh great King of the Sky!” 

A muscle twitched above Kageyama’s eye, but instead of taking the bait, he took a deep breath and smoothed his angry expression into one that could almost be called calm. “You have to focus your weight on the balls of your feet when you lift off,” he instructed. “Not your heels, not your toes, not your ankles. The  _ balls of your feet.  _ If your weight’s in the wrong place, you won’t fly nearly as high.” 

“Right,” Shouyou said. They furrowed their brow, attempting to focus their weight like Kageyama had said. 

“It looks like this,” Kageyama said. He waited until he was sure Shouyou was watching, then lifted off into the air, immediately launching himself much higher than Shouyou knew how to. He hovered above Shouyou for a moment or two longer, before lowering himself back down to the daisy’s surface beside Shouyou. “Your turn.” 

Shouyou nodded, and they focused their weight and pushed off. They knew immediately that they’d done something wrong, but it wasn’t until they landed again and found that they couldn’t quite get their footing on the daisy that they realized for certain. Kageyama reached out to steady them, but Shouyou still fell over and ended up bringing both of them down into the pollen. 

“Dumbass,” Kageyama wheezed, choking on a mouthful of pollen. “You did it wrong.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Shouyou spat, spluttering around the awful, tangy taste on his tongue. “It’s not like you’re giving stellar instructions!” 

“Well, if you would just listen the first time!” Kageyama retorted. 

“Well, if you explained it well enough the first time!” Shouyou shot back. 

“You’re impossible,” Kageyama snapped. “I don’t even know why I agreed to help someone as hopeless as you. You’ll  _ never  _ be a flower fairy again.” 

Shouyou blinked, reeling. It was nothing they hadn’t told themself a million times, but—somehow it stung more, coming from Kageyama’s mouth. Their friends were supposed to  _ believe  _ in Shouyou. Their friends weren’t supposed to echo their own toxic internal monologue. 

Well. Maybe they and Kageyama just weren’t friends, then. 

“I’m not hopeless,” Shouyou said, but they could hear the tremor in his voice. 

Kageyama scoffed. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Shouyou momentarily out of the corner of his eyes. His face slackened, his eyes widening slightly at the look on Shouyou’s face. Shouyou didn’t really know what expression they were making, but they could feel tears stinging the backs of their eyes and knew it wouldn’t be long before they started to cry. 

“I’m  _ not,”  _ Shouyou insisted. “I have potential! I may be small, but my flowers are more vibrant than anybody else’s! I may be small, but I can—I can make flowers bloom that most flower fairies could never even  _ dream  _ of. I had flowers blooming beneath my feet before I’d even arrived in the forest!” They were crying now, fat tears rolling down their cheeks like raindrops. “I may be small, but I’m going to be the best flower fairy this forest has ever seen! Just you wait, Kageyama. I’m not hopeless, and I’m going to make you eat those words.” 

With that, Shouyou huffed and turned away, swiping furiously at their eyes before they took off, leaving Kageyama all alone in the flower meadow. 

-

Shouyou arrived at the weed and small wildflower station bright and early the next morning, so early that most of the other fairies hadn’t even come yet. Akaashi was there, tending to a small patch of brightly colored dandelions and humming softly under his breath. He looked up when he heard Shouyou approach, gesturing toward a group of wildflower buds waiting for assistance. 

Shouyou did as told, moving toward the buds on autopilot. They recalled the movements from the night before, and they copied them on all of the buds in front of them. They blossomed brightly, their petals springing to life and their steams reaching up toward the sky. They seemed bigger than usual, taller, but Shouyou couldn’t tell if that was because they’d spent so long looking at the tiny sunset blossom or if they’d actually made progress. 

“You’re improving,” Akaashi remarked quietly, as Shouyou moved onto a small patch of four-leaf clovers. 

Shouyou hummed noncommittally. Their fight with Kageyama the night before was still weighing on their mind, dampening their spirits. Did people really think they were hopeless? Did  _ Kageyama  _ really think they were hopeless? And why did Shouyou care, anyway? They and Kageyama weren’t friends, not really. They were just—partners. Working together as a means to an end, and they would part ways once they’d both been satisfied. That had always been the deal, and yet somehow Shouyou couldn’t stop the crushing sensation around their heart every time they thought about never seeing Kageyama again, never working with him or flying with him again. 

Kageyama was—he was nothing to Shouyou. And somehow, Shouyou couldn’t help but feel like they were nothing without Kageyama, nothing without the chance he’d given them. 

Akaashi flitted over to the group of wildflowers Shouyou had been tending, running a fingertip along one of the petals gingerly. He hummed under his breath. Shouyou watched him curiously, wondering what was going through his head; unlike their other friends and companions, Akaashi’s face never betrayed any of his thoughts, always carefully blank and calm. 

“Do you know how I always know it’s you when you arrive?” Akaashi asked suddenly, lifting his head to look at Shouyou. Shouyou blinked. 

“Uh—how?” they asked, frowning. 

Akaashi hummed again. “It’s your wings,” he explained. “A weed and wildflower fairy’s wings have a slight buzz to them, like a pollinating insect’s, but yours—they’re so much quieter. Like a gentle breeze whistling through a meadow.”

“So?” Shouyou asked, still not sure where this was going or why Akaashi had even brought it up to begin with. Akaashi wasn’t necessarily a man of few words, but he never said anything useless or unimportant. Never any extra words, never any filler fluff that people didn’t care about. 

“It’s how I know,” Akaashi said. 

Shouyou furrowed their brow. “Know what?” 

Akaashi lifted the petal of one of Shouyou’s wildflowers. “You are very talented, and a very fast learner,” he explained. “But you are not one of us. Nor will you ever be.” 

Shouyou stared. Their eyes were stinging again. Akaashi’s words were so negative, so mean out of context, but somehow Shouyou felt like it was the nicest thing Akaashi had ever said to them, maybe even the nicest thing anyone had  _ ever  _ said to them. 

“Oh,” they said, flushing as their voice cracked loudly. “Thanks.” 

Akaashi smiled softly. “I think those dandelions would like some attention.” 

Shouyou glanced over their shoulder and felt the pull of the dandelions calling out to them. When they looked back, Akaashi was already tending some new weeds, murmuring encouragements to them as he coaxed them to bloom as they were supposed to in the spring. It was as if it had never happened, but Shouyou knew it had, for their chest was filled with a joyful warmth they hadn’t felt since his demotion. 

They didn’t belong here. They never would. 

They never thought those words could bring them such joy.

Shouyou took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of spring, and felt a small smile pulling at their features. “Alright,” they said to the dandelions. “I’m coming.” 

-

“Hey, Kenma,” Shouyou started, as the two of them lounged on the surface of a sunflower. The warm sunlight shining down on them was relaxing, enough that Shouyou thought they might fall asleep if they didn’t get up and move soon. 

Kenma hummed in lieu of a verbal response. 

“Do you know where I could find Oikawa?” Shouyou continued. 

Kenma grunted. “What do you want to find him for?” 

“He offered to help me with something,” Shouyou explained. Kenma squinted at them, a calculating look in his eyes before he finally relaxed and closed his eyes again, basking in the sunlight. He really enjoyed the sunlight a bit too much for a winter fairy who was supposed to be accustomed to overcast skies and cold weather. 

“I’ll ask Kuroo,” he said simply. 

Shouyou grinned. “Thanks, Kenma,” they chirped. “You’re the best!”

“Mm,” Kenma replied. “I know.” He paused, frowning slightly. “But what do you even need help with that Oikawa could do? Isn’t he a cloudmaker? From  _ winter?”  _

“Yes,” Shouyou agreed, and they finally understood how Iwaizumi and Oikawa might’ve met, given that they’re from different seasons. “But he knows about the Tiny Sunflower, and I want to learn from him.” 

Kenma squinted at them again, before he ultimately shrugged. “We can go now if you want. Kuroo’s probably not busy.”

“And if he is?” Shouyou asked, grinning slightly. 

Kenma shrugged again. “Does it look like I care? He’s never too busy for me.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Shouyou told him, but the fondness was obvious in their tone. Kenma hummed, allowing Shouyou to pull him to his feet. Shouyou took his hand, and together the two of them flew toward the winter domain. Kenma took the lead once they passed over into his native domain, leading them through the trees toward the only part of the forest still coated in a pristine, white blanket of snow. The place where the snow fairies worked, Shouyou guessed. They’d known that Kuroo wasn’t a frost fairy, but they’d never realized he was a snow fairy. 

“Tetsurou,” Kenma greeted, landing beside his boyfriend on a branch. He didn’t make any moves of affection like Oikawa and Iwaizumi had the last time Shouyou saw them together, but there was still a soft light in his eyes that hadn’t been there when it was just him and Shouyou. Kuroo turned away from the small flurry he’d been crafting, allowing the out-of-season snow to dissipate as he turned to look at the other two. 

“Hey, Kenma,” he greeted with an easy smile. “Hey, Hinata. What brings you to the best part of the Forest of the Fairies?” 

Shouyou opened their mouth to refute, but Kenma cut them off. “Shouyou wants to know where to find Oikawa.” 

Kuroo blinked. “What for?” 

Kenma shrugged, and both of them turned to look at Shouyou for an explanation. 

Shouyou fidgeted under their twin gazes; winter fairies would always be intimidating, no matter how many they befriended. Though, Tsukishima would probably just say that Shouyou thought anybody taller than them was intimidating. 

“He offered to help me with something,” they explained. “Research.” 

Kuroo’s grin turned mischievous. “Oh? I didn’t know you could read, Shrimpy.” 

Shouyou huffed. “You sound like Tsukishima.” 

Kuroo brightened immediately. “How’s Tsukki? He keeps skipping out on our outings with Bokuto.” He punctuated the statement with a childish pout that didn’t suit his features. 

Shouyou turned to Kenma. “Is your boyfriend dating two other guys?” 

Kuroo spluttered and fell backward off of the branch in his shock, while Kenma just grinned. There was an amused glint in his amber eyes, as he patted Kuroo on the back to ease the breath he’d choked on. 

“ _ No,  _ I am not dating Bokuto!” Kuroo declared. “ _ Or  _ Tsukishima. They’re too gay for me.” 

Shouyou blinked at him. 

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “I meant they’re too gay for  _ other people.  _ As in, Akaashi and Yamaguchi. Duh.”

“Don’t act like it was obvious,” Kenma admonished. “You’re the only one that would’ve made sense to.” 

Kuroo rolled his eyes again. “ _ Anyway,”  _ he said, “Oikawa’s probably over by the pond. That’s where he likes to practice. Something about the moisture in the air being good for the fluffiness of his clouds. I dunno, I tune him out most of the time.” 

Kenma was the one to roll his eyes this time. He turned to Shouyou. “Do you know where to find the pond?” 

“I think so,” Shouyou replied, standing up and preparing for flight. 

“You’re sure you aren’t too tired?” Kenma asked. 

Shouyou flushed. “Of course not!” they replied. “The flight here was nothing!” Nevermind that they could still feel a slight ache in their wings. They’d be fine; if memory served, the pond wasn’t far from here. 

“If you’re sure,” Kenma said, though he didn’t look quite convinced. “Good luck with the Tiny Sunflower.” 

“The what?” Kuroo asked, but Shouyou didn’t stick around long enough to explain. They took off, heading in the direction of what they hoped was the pond. According to Kenma, the frost fairies in charge of freezing the lakes didn’t usually hang around this pond, instead choosing to practice their frost with the others in the forest. Shouyou hoped this held true, as they didn’t think they’d be able to spot Oikawa out of a crowd of busy fairies, even if he was the only one gathering mist into clouds. 

The forest that passed below as Shouyou flew was nothing to sneeze at, so they didn’t bother wasting time taking in the scenery. The winter domain might’ve been appealing to winter or autumn fairies, who were already used to the kind of solitary beauty that came from the leafless trees, but to Shouyou, who had grown up surrounded by only the brightest of flowers, it always felt remarkably underwhelming. 

In what seemed like no time at all, Shouyou had arrived at the pond. Sure enough, there was only one fairy sitting near its edge, his knees tucked underneath him as he twisted the mist into shapeless clouds. Each cloud was released from his hands, and he’d watch them drift away for several moments before he turned to begin crafting another. Shouyou watched Oikawa work for a few moments, before they landed purposely on the crunching underbrush, the sound making their presence known. 

“There was no reason to do that,” Oikawa said. “No winter fairy’s wings sound quite like a flower fairy’s, and you’re the only flower fairy who would know where to find me.” 

“I didn’t, though,” Shouyou said. “You never told me where you’d be.” 

Oikawa loosened his grip on the cloud in his hands, watching it drift over the still expanse of the lake before he glanced over his shoulder at Shouyou, a charming smile poised on his lips. It looked painfully fake, but Shouyou didn’t bother pointing that out. “And yet you still managed to find me.” 

Shouyou approached him, taking a seat next to him on the edge of the lake and watching as he returned to his cloudmaking.

“You decided what you want to do?” Oikawa asked, after a few moments passed in silence. 

Shouyou paused, considering their response. To be honest, they really hadn’t. They knew that they weren’t a weed and wildflower fairy, they knew that they belonged up with the flower fairies, he just didn’t know how to get there. And with Akaashi’s words of encouragement and Oikawa’s advice echoing in his mind, they weren’t entirely sure that going to the Tiny Sunflower was the right choice at this moment in time. Shouyou was self-aware enough to know that if the Tiny Sunflower gave them any advice, Shouyou would internalize it and likely lose whatever it was that made their flowers unique to  _ them,  _ and not the Tiny Sunflower. 

“How did you and Iwaizumi meet?” they finally asked. Oikawa blinked, glancing at Shouyou in apparent surprise as he fumbled the cloud in his hands and the mist dissipated before it could fully form. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, gathering mist again. 

Shouyou shrugged. “Just curious. You’re from different seasons, after all.” 

“So are you and your friends,” Oikawa shot back. “You don’t see me prying into your personal life.” 

“Sorry,” Shouyou said, but they didn’t really mean it. 

Oikawa shook his head. “It’s whatever. Iwa-chan and I were born from the same dandelion wish. He just ended up in spring, and I ended up here.”

“Oh,” Shouyou breathed. “Sorry.” 

Oikawa released his cloud and waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. We make it work.” He eyed Shouyou. “Why? Do you have your eye on someone from another season? Hate to break it to you, but Kenma’s taken.”

Shouyou flushed. “Wh—What— _ Why  _ would you even assume that?” they cried, spluttering. Oikawa laughed—as in, tipped his head back and really laughed—at Shouyou’s embarrassment, turning away from the pond to face Shouyou fully. 

“I’m just teasing,” he said. He rested his elbows on his knees, propping his chin on his fist and gesturing for Shouyou to continue. “Spill. Tell me all the juicy details.” 

Shouyou flushed, their cheeks feeling warmer than the sunlight at the height of summer. “I barely even know you,” they tried. 

Oikawa didn’t look impressed with their excuse. “I just told you how I met the man I’m planning to spend the rest of my life with. You can tell me about your crush.”

Well, he had a point. “I don’t even know if it  _ is  _ a crush,” Shouyou lamented. “I don’t even know if he’s my  _ friend.”  _

“Oh, so this is gay panic,” Oikawa surmised. “That makes this a lot easier.” 

Shouyou spluttered again. “Stop  _ saying things like that!”  _ they exclaimed. “It’s  _ embarrassing!”  _

“Get used to it, babe,” Oikawa drawled. “Now, tell me about the mystery boy who’s stolen your heart.”

Shouyou hesitated before they sighed and deflated. There really wasn’t any point in hiding it, was there? And besides, Oikawa seemed to have his life relatively in order—maybe he could even help Shouyou. “He’s a winter fairy,” Shouyou started. Oikawa’s face brightened. “And he’s a windcarrier. But he’s—he’s so  _ stupid  _ and  _ mean,  _ and I  _ hate him  _ but I also  _ never want to be without him  _ and it’s—” Shouyou tugged at their hair, letting out a growl of frustration. “It’s so  _ confusing!  _ How am I even supposed to handle this? I have  _ so many other things to be worrying about!”  _

“Hey, hey, first of all, you need to take a fucking breath,” Oikawa said, reaching to pull Shouyou’s hands away from their head. “Come on, breathe with me.” He demonstrated his breathing, overexaggerated and obnoxious, and Shouyou did their best to copy until their mind felt clearer, their shoulders lighter. “Now you can keep telling me about your boy. Go on, I know you want to.”

And Shouyou really did. They and Kageyama had only been meeting up for a short while, but it was such a tightly-kept secret that they couldn’t tell any of their friends about it, not even Kenma, and they told Kenma everything. There was something comforting about being able to just  _ talk  _ to someone about Kageyama, even if it was embarrassing and awkward. 

“He’s annoying,” Shouyou said. “I hate him.” 

Oikawa waved a hand dismissively. “We covered that.”

“He’s pretty,” Shouyou added. “Really, really, pretty. He looks like he’s supposed to be a moonlight fairy, what with how pretty he looks under the night sky.” They paused, a soft smile tugging at their lips. “And he’s actually kind of nice when he isn’t being stupid or insulting me. It’s like—he clearly doesn’t know how to show it, or how to even interact with another person, but he  _ cares.  _ He cares  _ so much,  _ and he tries his best, and I just—I just want him to be happy.” 

Oikawa smiled softly at Shouyou’s words. “Aw, Shrimpy,” he cooed. “You’re in  _ love.”  _

Shouyou’s eyes widened. “I—what? No, I can’t be.” 

Oikawa blinked. “What? Why not?” 

The memory of their most recent fight came swimming back to the surface, wiping Shouyou’s smile off of their face and weighing on their chest and shoulders like a million pounds. It felt as though the entire sky was suddenly resting on Shouyou and Shouyou alone. “Because he doesn’t—he doesn’t believe in me like I believe in him,” Shouyou murmured. Their eyes were stinging again, which was so  _ annoying.  _ How  _ dare  _ Kageyama have so much power over them and their emotions, how  _ dare  _ Kageyama say the  _ one thing  _ that would leave Shouyou hurting for the rest of forever? “He doesn’t think I’ll ever amount to anything. I don’t want to be in love with that. I don’t want anything to do with that.” 

Oikawa didn’t say anything for several moments. Shouyou looked up, wiping away the few tears that managed to escape, only to see that Oikawa’s smile had melted, too. 

“Hey, Shrimpy?” Oikawa started, after a few minutes passed in silence. Shouyou looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “Take it from someone who’s been there: Don’t ever let anybody else decide your worth.”

Shouyou stared. How could they not, when people like Oikawa had the power to take away everything Shouyou had ever worked for, everything they ever wanted, in less than five minutes, less than one full conversation? 

“I mean it,” Oikawa said seriously. “I’ll tell you where to find the Tiny Sunflower if it’s really that important to you, but—you can’t stake your own personal self-worth and the value you see yourself with on anybody else's opinion but yours. You  _ are  _ a good fairy, you  _ are  _ going to achieve great things. Just—not yet.”

“I want to achieve great things  _ now,”  _ Shouyou insisted. “Why can’t you guys just let me do what I was born to do?” 

Oikawa pressed his lips into a thin line. He was quiet for so long, Shouyou almost thought he wasn’t going to answer, until finally, he said, “If you want to find the Tiny Sunflower, you need to talk to Ukai Keishin. He’s an autumn fairy; Suga probably knows where to find him.” He stood, a thoughtful frown on his face. It was different from the curious look he’d worn in that meeting what seemed like forever ago; he was clearly thinking, clearly wondering about something, but he also just looked  _ sad.  _ “I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything better than that, Hinata. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” 

He flew off, and Shouyou was left alone by the water’s edge. They gazed down at their reflection, completely still and unmoving on the surface of the water. “Yeah,” they said. “Me too.”

-

Suga was harder to track down than Shouyou had been anticipating. They eventually found him perched on a branch near the edge of the autumn domain, painting a pile of leaves the customary shades of red and yellow and orange that were generally associated with fall for apparent practice. He glanced up when he heard Shouyou approach, a small smile spreading across his face at the sight of the spring fairy. 

“Hinata!” he greeted. “What brings you out this way?”

“I have a question for you,” Shouyou replied, landing silently on the branch. They stared down at the pile of painted leaves, furrowing their brow. 

Suga set his painting supplies aside, stepping closer to Shouyou. “What is it?” he asked, his face pinched with concern. “Is everything okay, Hinata? Your wings look duller. You haven’t been overworking yourself again, have you?”

Shouyou shook their head, even though that wasn’t exactly true. “Do you know where I could find Ukai Keishin?” they asked, looking up. 

Suga blinked in apparent surprise before he recovered and said, “Yeah, why?”

“I wanted to talk to him about something,” Shouyou replied.

Suga hesitated. “This isn’t about you becoming a flower fairy again, is it?” he asked. “Hinata, we’ve told you, you just aren’t ready for it yet.” 

“But I  _ am  _ ready!” Shouyou insisted. “At least—I will be. You just have to give me a chance to prove it.” 

Suga didn’t look convinced, shifting his weight slightly, before he finally sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. If you want to find Ukai, you’ll have to go to the harvest fields. He’s usually out really early in the morning until really late, so you can’t miss him.” 

Shouyou brightened, springing forward to pull Suga into a tight hug. “Thanks!” they cheered. “You’re the best, Suga!” 

Suga sighed and laughed quietly, patting Shouyou on the back. “Why do you only tell me that when I’m helping you?”

-

Shouyou wasted no time in flying over to the harvest fields in search of Ukai, asking every fairy they passed if they knew where to find him. Most of them said no, until someone pointed Shouyou toward a fairy, older than Suga or Daichi by a few years, with dyed blond hair and a small wheat stalk sticking out of his mouth. 

Shouyou landed and approached Ukai on foot. He looked far more intimidating than Shouyou had been counting on, his face set into a perpetual annoyed frown. 

“Um, are you Ukai Keishin?” Shouyou said hesitantly, once they deemed themself to be within hearing range. 

Ukai grunted but didn’t look up from his work. “Who wants to know?” 

“Hinata Shouyou,” Shouyou replied. “I’m a flower—er, a weed and wildflower fairy from spring.” 

At this, Ukai looked up and raised an eyebrow. “What’re you doing all the way out here? And what do you want from me?” 

Shouyou floundered slightly under such an intense gaze before they recovered slightly and asked, “Do you know where I can find the Tiny Sunflower?”

Ukai’s frown deepened, his eyebrows furrowing. He bit through the wheat in his mouth, muttering a soft curse as he tossed the broken stem aside. “Why?”

Shouyou blinked. “Because I’m going to be just like him!” they declared. “I may be small, but I’m gonna be the best flower fairy this forest has ever seen!” 

Ukai raised an eyebrow again. “You? The one who specializes in weeds and wildflowers?”

Shouyou huffed. “That’s not my specialty, they just demoted me because my flowers are too small!”

“Maybe they’ve got the right idea,” Ukai dismissed, turning back to his work. “You can’t change your natural build, kid. If you were born small, you’ll always be small, and so will your flowers.” 

“The Tiny Sunflower was small,” Shouyou countered, “and his flowers were bigger than anybody else’s.” 

Ukai snorted. “No, they weren't. They were just average size, and everyone over-hyped it because  _ he  _ wasn’t.”

Shouyou felt as though someone had yanked the rug out from under them. Even though they couldn’t manage to make their flowers average-sized, it was jarring to find out that the Tiny Sunflower, who they’d idolized, wasn’t as great as they’d thought. He was—average? How could he be  _ average?  _

“But he was the Tiny Sunflower,” Shouyou said, feeling more and more like they’d been lied to. There was a bad feeling in their gut that they didn’t appreciate, one that told them they weren’t going to like where the rest of this conversation would go. 

“Yeah, he was,” Ukai agreed, nodding slightly. “But he also burned himself out and left the Forest barely three years after his first spring.” At Shouyou’s prolonged silence, Ukai looked up and his face softened. “Look, kid—”

“I have to get back to Spring,” Shouyou interrupted. “Thank you for your time.” They flew off, leaving Ukai and the harvest field behind. They could hear Ukai calling out to them somewhere on the ground, but they didn’t bother turning around or even slowing down until all of the autumn domain had passed beneath them and they were back on their home turf. It was getting late, late enough that there weren’t very many fairies still out tending to their jobs.

Spring didn’t look as pretty at night, when everything was bathed in shades of indigo and navy blue. It reminded Shouyou a little of winter, without the quiet peace that came with a barren landscape and spindly, leafless trees. Idly, Shouyou wondered if Kageyama would be waiting for them in the flower meadow, even though Shouyou hadn’t been by in a few days. 

Before they fully realized what they were doing, Shouyou redirected their flight toward the meadow where they and Kageyama usually practiced. It wasn’t long before the familiar sight of daisies bathed in moonlight came into view, and it wasn’t long after that before Shouyou found themself at the meadow’s edge. The flower fairies had fully caught up, it seemed. It was Shouyou who’d fallen behind. 

Shouyou landed on a daisy, stumbling slightly. They frowned, glancing over their shoulder at their wings; they never flubbed a landing on a flowerhead, except for when they were practicing with Kageyama. But they hadn’t done anything special just now, so why did it feel like their wings gave out before they reached the flower?

They didn’t have time to dwell on it, for a familiar voice grunted, “Oi, dumbass.” 

Shouyou looked up and saw that Kageyama was standing on the surface of a daisy several flowers away from Shouyou’s. “Kageyama,” they greeted. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.” 

“We had a fucking agreement, didn’t we?” Kageyama spat. “Just because I’m a dumbass who can’t keep his mouth shut doesn’t mean I was gonna bail on you.” 

Shouyou squinted. “I didn’t think you were doing this for me.” 

Kageyama flushed, his eyes widening slightly. “I—I’m not!” he insisted. “Don’t be a dumbass!  _ You’re  _ the one who hasn’t been showing up! What’s that all about?” 

“You said I was hopeless!” Shouyou fired back. “Why would I come help you if you didn’t think I’d ever be able to achieve it?” 

Kageyama glared. “You’ve never listened to me before, why’d you have to start when I said something stupid?” 

Shouyou huffed. “Whatever, let’s just do this already.” 

Kageyama rolled his eyes and scoffed, but he still flitted over to Shouyou’s flower. “Do you remember the basics, or are you still a dumbass?”

“You’re so rude,” Shouyou said, sticking their tongue out. “Rude and mean. Of course I remember the basics.” 

“Good,” Kageyama muttered. “Try it, then.” 

“Fine,” Shouyou snapped. They took a deep breath, preparing for their takeoff. They focused all of their weight into the balls of their feet, and then with one quick, powerful wingbeat, they were airborne. They could feel themself ascending higher than they ever had, and they let out a gleeful little whoop of joy, but they didn’t dare look down for fear of falling. They were—they were  _ doing it,  _ they were finally going to fly high enough to be a flower fairy, and then—

There was a sharp spike of pain lancing through their wings, both of them at once, and Shouyou seized in midair. They weren’t flying anymore but falling, plummeting really, and they could hear Kageyama cry out in a mix of shock and—was that fear?—but Shouyou was too busy trying desperately to regain their momentum before they hit the ground to listen. 

For a second, they’d thought they had it; their wings caught a light breeze, and for a brief moment they weren’t falling as fast anymore, but in the next second another stab of pain traveled up their wings and throughout their spine, forcing them to cry out. 

Shouyou hit the ground so hard and so fast that for a moment, they didn’t feel anything at all. The fall had seemed to pass in slow motion, and at the same time it happened in less than a blink of the eye. One moment Shouyou was flying, higher than they’d ever been, high enough to touch to clouds, and the next they were on the ground, staring up at the starry sky that seemed so very far away all of a sudden. 

The pain hit them all at once in the next second, and Shouyou nearly screamed for how much it  _ hurt.  _ The majority of it was coming from their wings, but their entire body ached from their collision with the ground. Shouyou wheezed, tears pricking their eyes, and tried desperately to regain control of their body, their wings, their voice, but it felt like someone had poured boiling water on their wings, like someone had set every last nerve ending alight with a blazing inferno, starting from where they sprouted out of Shouyou’s back. Nothing else existed in that moment, nothing but Shouyou and their wings and their  _ pain.  _

“Hinata?” Kageyama’s voice eventually filtered in, sounding far more frantic than Shouyou had ever heard. “Hinata, you dumbass, answer me! What the fuck just happened? Hinata?  _ Hinata!”  _

Shouyou tried to speak, but it came out as a reedy whine instead. They reached up, waving their hand around until Kageyama seemed to understand and grabbed Shouyou’s hand in a vice grip. 

“Hinata, what the fuck,” Kageyama said. “What the fuck just happened? What the fuck?” 

Shouyou stared blankly at the sky. It clicked suddenly, why they’d flubbed that landing and why their wings were so sore as of late.

Fairies weren’t meant to travel out of their domains very often, especially not for extended periods of time. And they were  _ never  _ supposed to travel between foreign domains without stopping to rest in their own—it was fairy 101. Everyone knew what the risk would be. Shouyou knew. They  _ knew,  _ and still they let their own desperation—

“My wings,” Shouyou breathed, staring blankly up at the sky overhead. 

Kageyama sucked in a sharp breath. They pulled Shouyou to a sitting position so that he could see his wings, muttering an apology in response to Shouyou’s wince. He leaned over Shouyou’s shoulder, his grip tightening momentarily on Shouyou’s hand. His face showed no emotion when he sat back on his knees, but—the way his hand was shaking where it held onto Shouyou was tell enough. 

“They’re broken, aren’t they?” Shouyou asked, their voice trembling even though inside they only felt numb. 

Kageyama was quiet for several moments before he muttered, “Yeah.” 

Shouyou could only laugh, because they knew that if they didn’t, they’d cry. And they knew that if they cried, they wouldn’t ever be able to stop. 

Kageyama frowned, a war of emotions swirling in his eyes, before finally, he said, “Come on. We have to get you to a healer.” 

_ Don’t bother,  _ Shouyou wanted to say.  _ Everyone knows you can’t fix a broken wing.  _ They said nothing, their laughter dying off as Kageyama pulled them to their feet and looped his arm around the shorter fairy’s shoulders. After a moment’s hesitation, Kageyama bent down and lifted Shouyou into his arms, one arm balanced underneath the crook of Shouyou’s knees and the other cradling Shouyou’s spine. 

“Hold on,” Kageyama muttered, and then they were flying, leaving the meadow of daisies far behind them.

Shouyou considered looking back; it was probably the last time they’d ever see this meadow up close, after all. But a spike of pain shocked their wings, and they sighed, burying their face in Kageyama’s chest. They didn’t need to look back. It wasn’t like this was the first time they were really losing it, in any case. 

At this point, Shouyou felt like the meadow had never even been theirs to lose.

-

They were alone when they woke up, but Shouyou had been to the healer huts enough over the years that they recognized the interior of one after only a few moments spent awake. They’d never been in one of the beds before, though. Normally, it was one of their friends, or their coworkers getting injured on the job. A small part of Shouyou had foolishly thought they would never be in one of the beds, thought they were invincible. 

There was a soft knock at the door. Shouyou rasped out a weak permission of entry, and watched as a fairy probably around Ukai’s age, maybe a little older, stepped into the room on silent feet. His wings were relaxed as he made his way over to Shouyou’s bedside, rather than poised for flight like most other fairies’. Shouyou supposed it made sense; the healer fairies never really had to go anywhere, so they weren’t all that great at flying. Didn’t need to be, in their line of work. Even the panel of seasons made time to come to  _ them,  _ rather than making the healers abandon their posts whenever they were needed. 

“Good morning, Hinata,” the fairy greeted, a gentle smile on his face. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, a dorky gesture Tsukishima had grown out of early on in Shouyou’s time being his sort-of-friend. “My name is Takeda. I was the one who treated you last night when Kageyama brought you in.” 

_ Kageyama? _ Shouyou thought.  _ Why would Kageyama bring them to a Spring Healer?  _

Something melancholic tugged at the corners of Takeda’s smile. “Do you remember what happened?” 

Shouyou shook their head.

“According to what Kageyama told me,” Takeda started, “you two were flying out in one of the flower meadows when you suddenly fell. When he found you on the ground, you were lying motionless and staring up at the sky, unresponsive for several minutes.”

Shouyou swallowed thickly. They didn’t like where this was going. 

“You asked about your wings,” Takeda continued, looking increasingly grim. “And when Kageyama looked to see what had happened to them, he saw that they had both been broken.”

Shouyou stared. They couldn’t have heard that right. Flower fairies needed wings to do their jobs. Flower fairies  _ needed  _ wings. They needed to fly _. Shouyou  _ needed to fly.

“I am very sorry to tell you that your wings have been broken, Hinata,” Takeda said sincerely. “One of them was severed near its base, while the other is merely torn. As you know, broken wings cannot be healed and typically cause residual pain to their fairy that bears them, so you do have the option of removing them entirely. This is entirely up to you, and I want to stress to you that it is  _ not  _ required to live a healthy and fruitful life after this tragedy.”

He stopped and looked to Shouyou, clearly waiting for a response of some kind, but Shouyou couldn’t even fathom something like that. They were—they were supposed to be a flower fairy again. They needed their  _ wings.  _ “Broken?” they finally echoed, ignoring the way their voice trembled. 

Takeda blinked before he nodded solemnly. 

“But I’m supposed to be a flower fairy,” Shouyou said, their eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Takeda sighed. “I’m very sorry, Hinata.” 

“But I can’t—how can I be a flower fairy with broken wings?” Shouyou whispered. “How can I be— _ anything?” _

Takeda frowned. “Hinata, listen to me,” he said, sitting down on the edge of Shouyou’s bed and taking Shouyou’s hands in his. Shouyou blinked up at him. “You are a fairy, through and through. You have been a fairy since the day you first set foot in this forest and you will be a fairy long after you leave. You are very talented, and you have a lot of potential, and you did not deserve this tragedy that you are now being forced to deal with.” He paused, his eyes scanning Shouyou’s face for something Shouyou couldn’t identify. “But I need you to  _ hear me  _ when I tell you this: you are a fairy, with or without your wings. You will be a fairy if you choose to keep them, you will be a fairy if you choose to have them removed, and you  _ are  _ a fairy even though you will never fly on your own again.”

“But I’m supposed to be a flower fairy,” Shouyou sobbed. “How can I ever be a flower fairy if I can’t fly?”

“I won’t pretend to understand how you feel,” Takeda replied. “And I won’t pretend to know what you’ve been through. But know this: You are going to wind up exactly where you are meant to be, even if that isn’t a flower meadow. Sometimes the things we want don’t end up being the things we need. And that’s okay. But everything will work out. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But someday, you will look around and you will realize that there is nowhere you’d rather be. Do not let this tragedy be the end of you, Hinata. The future is limitless. The future is  _ hope.  _ I would hate for you to miss it.” 

Shouyou hiccupped a sob, pulling Takeda into a hug. Takeda let out a quiet noise of surprise, before he relaxed into the embrace and rubbed soothing circles into Shouyou’s back, not even caring that Shouyou was staining his shirt with tears. 

“I’m supposed to be a flower fairy,” Shouyou whispered, their voice hollow.

“I know,” Takeda replied. 

“Flower fairies need wings,” Shouyou continued. “They need to  _ fly.” _

Takeda sighed. “I know.”

-

Shouyou knew the panel of seasons would come by shortly. At least one of them would come, even if it wasn’t all of them. They laid on their bed, staring at the ceiling and waiting for them to tell them that they were useless, irredeemable, banished from the forest. A small part of them knew that they’d never say that. A bigger part of them knew that all of this misery was their own fault. 

If only they’d been more careful, if only they’d taken better care of their wings, if only they hadn’t been quite so reckless, they might not be here, and all of this might not be happening. If only, if only, if only. 

Shouyou sighed as the door opened. It didn’t sound like the full panel had come. They glanced up, only to see that their visitor wasn’t  _ anybody  _ on the panel of seasons; it was Ukai. Ukai walked stiffly to the chair at Shouyou’s bedside, placing a small basket wrapped in orange cloth on the bedside table. 

“In case you get hungry,” he explained, fidgeting slightly under Shouyou’s gaze. “But—you should try to eat soon if you haven’t already. It’ll help your muscles heal and grow stronger after your injury.” 

“How did you know I was here?” Shouyou rasped. 

Ukai flushed slightly. “Takeda mentioned you last night after his shift.” 

Shouyou blinked. “Oh.” 

Ukai took a seat, picking at the hem of his shirt as the two of them lapsed into silence. He gave off the vibe of a parental type figure, seeming like he could be good at advice if he wasn’t initially so awkward. 

After a few moments, Shouyou cleared their throat. “Why did you come?” 

“I—remembered what you were saying to me yesterday,” Ukai explained, “about the Tiny Sunflower, and how you wanted to be a Flower Fairy.”

Shouyou said nothing, their eyes stinging with tears at the reminder of everything they’d never be able to do again, the dreams they’d never be able to achieve. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It was  _ never  _ supposed to happen this way. 

“Don’t give up, red,” Ukai said, his voice breathy as he exhaled. “It’s not—I just wanted to tell you that this isn’t the end of anything. This is just—you know, a new beginning. A chance for you to be something else, something better.” 

“I don’t want to be something else,” Shouyou told him. “I want to be a flower fairy.” 

“I know you do, kid,” Ukai sighed. “But—you can either spend the rest of your life regretting the fact that you can’t be a flower fairy, or you can spend it enjoying where you are now. Growth doesn’t happen overnight, and sometimes the worst thing imaginable leads to the greatest outcome. You just have to be willing to put in the work.” 

Ukai gazed at Shouyou for a few moments more, before he ran a hand through his hair, standing. “You should eat,” he said. “You can focus on getting stronger tomorrow.”

He left after that, without so much as a goodbye. Shouyou stared at the closed door for several long moments, before they turned their gaze to the small basket Ukai had brought them. Unbidden, they began to cry. 

-

Shouyou wasn’t sure how many hours had passed in solitude after Ukai’s departure before it came time for their expected visit with the panel of seasons. Just as they’d thought, only two people walked into the room after the short knock on the door. Daichi stood at the foot of their bed, Suga standing slightly beside the spring fairy.

“Hello, Hinata,” Daichi greeted, smiling softly. Suga gave a little wave. 

“Hey,” Shouyou replied. They quirked a smile, pushing themself to sit up. “What brings you here?” 

Both Suga’s and Daichi’s smiles faltered. “We heard what happened,” Suga said. “We just wanted to tell you that the panel of seasons is here for you. And—and so are we. We’re your friends first, Hinata.”

Daichi nodded. 

Shouyou clenched their fists in the blanket of their cot. “Thanks.”

“You will still be returning to the weed and wildflower division,” Daichi said. “Akaashi is willing to help you reacclimate yourself if need be. We know that losing your wings can be—jarring for a fairy.” 

Heavy silence hung over the three of them, suffocating and cold. 

Shouyou didn’t know what to say. What could they say? They’d done this to themself, so they couldn’t even be angry that it had happened. “I’m sorry,” they finally whispered. Suga and Daichi blinked, exchanging glances. 

“Sorry?” Suga echoed. “For what?” 

“I did this,” Shouyou murmured. “It’s all my fault.” 

“No,” Daichi said immediately. “No, Hinata, this isn’t your fault.”

“I should’ve taken better care of my wings,” Shouyou continued. They could feel tears welling up in their eyes again. “I shouldn’t have—”

“That won’t change that this has happened,” Suga interrupted, his voice firm. He sat down on the bed, taking Shouyou’s hands in his own. “Hinata, look at me,” he said. Shouyou sniffled and lifted their eyes to make contact with Suga’s. “Losing the ability to fly is like losing a part of your soul. But—looking back on the past and thinking about everything you  _ should’ve  _ done or  _ could’ve  _ done won’t change what you  _ did.  _ All it will do is make this hurt more.” He squeezed Shouyou’s hands, sighing softly. 

“Don’t beat yourself up too much,” Daichi added, reaching out to ruffle Shouyou’s hair. “We all could’ve done something different to avoid this outcome.”

A soft knock at the door drew all three of their attention to where Takeda stood in the doorway, holding a clipboard in his hands with a pen tucked behind his ear. He smiled softly. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m supposed to be monitoring their vitals every few hours.”

Suga stood up, releasing Shouyou’s hands. “It’s okay,” he started.

Daichi cleared his throat. “We should probably be going anyway,” he said. “There’s supposed to be a panel meeting soon.” 

The two of them waved, then walked out of Shouyou’s room and left them alone with Takeda. Takeda approached the bed, beginning to feel Shouyou’s wrist for a pulse. 

“Have you given any more thought to what you’d like to do about your wings?” Takeda asked, making a note of something on the clipboard before he moved on to take Shouyou’s temperature. Shouyou shook their head. “That’s alright. It’s a big decision; you should take your time.”

Shouyou was quiet for a moment, biting their lip. “Can I really be a fairy if I don’t have wings?” they asked. “If I can’t fly?”

“Of course you can,” Takeda said immediately. “Ability to fly isn’t what makes you a fairy, Hinata. There is no physical piece of you that decides whether or not you get to be a fairy.”

Shouyou frowned. “Then what does?”

Takeda glanced down at them. “Hinata, there isn’t anything specific that can give you back the pieces of your identity you feel you’ve lost. Whatever you’re searching for, whatever you think you  _ need  _ in order to be a fairy—you won’t find it anywhere out there.” He poked Shouyou’s chest with the tip of his pen, just above Shouyou’s heart. “It’s in  _ here.  _ You just have to be willing to see it.”

Shouyou’s hand crept up to their chest, their fingers clenching in the fabric of their shirt. Takeda smiled, chuckling softly. “I think you’ll be okay, Hinata,” he said. “You’ve got a lot of good people to help you get back on your feet.”

Shouyou glanced at the door, thinking about Ukai and Suga and Daichi and even Takeda, who had all come to help them the best way that they knew how. 

“Yeah,” they breathed. “Yeah, I do.”

-

Shouyou was stirred from a light doze by the sound of their door opening, followed by light footsteps. They blinked the sleep out of their eyes, the afternoon sun lulling them back into that sleepy state. 

“Dumbass,” Kageyama huffed, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “You’re still sleeping this late in the afternoon?”

Shouyou blinked dumbly at the winter fairy, watching as he shuffled from foot to foot, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Kageyama,” they breathed. “You’re—here? Why would you come here?”

“Dumbass,” Kageyama said again. “Of course I’d come. You almost—you practically died right in front of me.”

Shouyou blinked. “But I’m not dead.”

Kageyama rolled his eyes. “Of course I know that! I can see that!” 

Shouyou tilted their head to the side. “So, then, why would you say that? Why would you come ‘cause I’m dead if you knew I was alive?”

Kageyama flushed, turning to look away. He muttered something Shouyou didn’t pick up. It took a moment, but looking at Kageyama’s flustered face, realization dawned on Shouyou. They grinned, smug. 

“Aw, Bakageyama, were you  _ worried  _ about me?” they teased. Kageyama’s face flushed darker. “Admit it!” Shouyou crowed. “Admit it, admit it, Yama-yama, you care about me!” 

“Of course I do!” Kageyama exclaimed. Shouyu blinked, reeling. Kageyama glared at them, huffing. “You’re my friend, aren’t you? Friends are supposed to care about each other.”

Something inside of Shouyou stung at the word  _ friend,  _ but they didn’t know or care what it was so they ignored it.

“Yes,” they said, somewhat awkwardly. “We are friends.” They shifted their weight on the bed. “Which is why you can sit down,” Shouyou said, gesturing to the chair at the side of their bed. “Friends generally stay for a while when they come to visit.” 

Kageyama walked stiffly over to the chair, sitting down and immediately tapping his fingers against his thigh repeatedly. He gazed around the room, clearly unsure what to do. Shouyou sighed softly, leaning back against the headboard of their bed as they turned their gaze toward the ceiling. 

“Yama-yama?” they asked. 

Kageyama grunted. “Where did that nickname come from, anyway?”

“Friends give each other nicknames,” Shouyou informed him. 

“I don’t have a nickname for you,” Kageyama said, sounding perplexed. Shouyou turned their head to look at him and smiled. 

“Dumbass works just fine,” they said. Kageyama stared at them for several seconds, before grunting and turning his eyes away. Shouyou returned their eyes to the ceiling. 

“Yama-yama?” they said again. 

“Dumbass,” Kageyama replied. “What do you want?”

Shouyou paused, pressing their lips into a thin line. “What’s it like up there?”

“Up where?” Kageyama grunted, tilting his head back toward the ceiling as well. 

Shouyou’s fingers curled upward, reaching for the sky they could not see. “The sky,” they breathed. “Above the clouds.”

Kageyama was quiet for several moments. Shouyou turned to look at him, only to find that Kageyama was frowning, the same way he did when he was concentrating particularly hard on something. Shouyou was about to take their question back when Kageyama finally spoke, his voice low. “It’s cold,” he said. “It gets colder the higher up you go. If you aren’t careful, your face and eyes will get windburnt.” 

Shouyou said nothing, their breath catching in his throat. 

Kageyama’s head tilted back, his face angled toward the sky, his eyes fluttering closed. “But when it’s just you, alone up above the clouds staring into the bright light of the sun, all the cold and all the wind and everything else ceases to exist. The warmth of the sun mingles with the biting chill against your skin and it feels—it feels like freedom.”

Shouyou’s heart fluttered in their chest. Their stomach twisted, then dropped. They knew these signs. They knew what the clamminess of their hands meant, what the butterfly-feeling in their gut implied.

They hadn’t meant to. But—right here, in this moment, Kageyama had just looked so  _ ethereal,  _ with the afternoon sunlight shining in through the window and illuminating him from behind as he recalled the heavenly feeling of flight among the clouds, that, really, Shouyou never stood a chance.

“Yama-yama,” Shouyou started, swallowing thickly. “I didn’t know you knew how to be poetic.”

Kageyama scowled, and the moment disappeared like sun slipping behind the clouds on an overcast afternoon. “Dumbass. Why’d you ask if you were just going to make fun of me?”

A spike of pain lanced its way up Shouyou’s spine, reminding them what they’d lost, reminding them of what they would never have again. They pressed their lips into a thin line, their fingers curling into a loose fist. “No reason,” they said. “Just curious.”

Kageyama didn’t look like he believed them, but he didn’t press the matter. 

“Hey,” Shouyou started. “Tell me what I’m missing. Where’s Kenma? Is he still doing his job or has he given up entirely?”

Kageyama began to talk, filling Shouyou in on all that they’d missed out on since being hospitalized, and Shouyou allowed the quiet sound of his voice to slip away as they got lost in thought.

It felt like  _ freedom,  _ Kageyama had said. 

If that was the case, was Shouyou imprisoned?

-

It was late afternoon when Shouyou stirred, golden sunlight streaming in through the window as the sun dipped toward the horizon. They sat up slowly and glanced around, only stopping when they felt a light tug on their curled fingers. Glancing down, Shouyou saw that they weren’t the only one asleep in their hospital room—Kageyama was sitting in the chair next to Shouyou’s bed, slumped over on the mattress with one of Shouyou’s hands held loosely in his own. He snored, barely, his back rising and falling with every breath. Shouyou smiled softly, tightening the grip they had on Kageyama’s hand. Kageyama squeezed Shouyou’s hand in his sleep.

“Bakageyama,” Shouyou murmured. “Why didn’t you go home if you were tired?” 

Kageyama didn’t stir, just hummed softly in his slumber before going back to snoring. Shouyou chuckled and gazed all around the room. Everything was painted in streaks of gold and orange thanks to the light of the setting sun, making the room feel much warmer than it did at night, or in the mornings. 

Their back ached, and Shouyou guessed the pain was what had woken them. If they called for Takeda, the older fairy would likely come bustling in with a million different ways to ease Shouyou’s discomfort, but—

He would also wake Kageyama. 

And they were just friends, Kageyama probably didn’t like Shouyou the way Shouyou liked him, but Kageyama always seemed so tired when he visited, and he looked so  _ peaceful,  _ Shouyou didn’t have the heart to do anything that might disturb it. Pressing their lips into a thin line, Shouyou adjusted their posture in hopes of relieving some of the building pressure near their wings. 

Unbidden, they remembered Takeda’s words to them on the day they originally woke in the hospital, wingless and confused and  _ sad.  _ Broken wings don’t heal, the way other injuries would. Broken wings never stop hurting. But a wingless fairy was like a flower without petals—still alive, still intact, but clearly missing something. Clearly  _ less.  _

If Shouyou chose to remove their wings, what would that make them? Where would that leave them? 

Who would they become? 

Would they still be a fairy, would they still be  _ Shouyou,  _ if their limitless dreams of flying higher than any fairy the world had ever seen were impossible? Would they still be themself if they weren’t a flower fairy? Would they still be themself if they couldn’t fly? If all of their friends from other seasons had to visit  _ them  _ because they couldn’t travel beyond the spring domain anymore? Would anybody even  _ want  _ to visit?

Shouyou’s eyes fell on Kageyama still asleep at his side, and a smile spread across their face of its own accord.

Someone would still visit them if Shouyou could never go anywhere. That someone was sitting right next to them, probably drooling on the sheet of Shouyou’s bed, with the golden light of dusk illuminating him in the richest, most beautiful color palette Shouyou had ever seen. Shouyou wondered if there was a flower anywhere in the world that could ever compare to how lovely Kageyama looked in that moment. 

If Shouyou had no wings, if Shouyou could never fly, if Shouyou was grounded to the spring domain for the rest of their life—

Someone would still love them. 

Kageyama stirred, lifting his head to gaze blearily around the room. He yawned, subconsciously squeezing Shouyou’s hand as he sat up. Shouyou snickered at the sight of Kageyama’s sleep-mussed hair, drawing the winter fairy’s attention. Kageyama furrowed his eyebrows. 

“What’re you looking at, dumbass?”

“You,” Shouyou replied simply. “Your hair’s a mess, Yama-yama.”

Kageyama scowled, reaching up to smooth down his bedhead. 

He never let go of Shouyou’s hand. 

-

“Takeda,” Shouyou said the next morning, as Takeda came bustling into the room with his pen and clipboard to take Shouyou’s vitals. Takeda hummed, not taking his eyes off of his current task. “I’ve decided to have my wings removed.”

This drew Takeda’s full attention. He glanced down at Shouyou, a tinge of apprehension in his face. “Are you sure?”

Shouyou nodded. 

Takeda smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Alright. I’ll notify the wing healer as soon as she comes in.”

Shouyou turned their gaze to the window in their room, tapping their fingers against the mattress idly. Outside, they could see fairies flitting this way and that, fairies of all seasons and all roles off to do their jobs or visit friends. Beyond that, they could see the spring domain, could see the endless rolling meadows of flowers so bright it almost hurt to look at them in direct sunlight, could see every petal as it danced with the light breeze carried through by the windcarriers. Even farther beyond that, they could see the gnarled, spindly branches of the winter domain’s trees. Windcarriers and cloudmakers hovered above the treeline, their blue clothing giving away their identities as they worked in the sky above the clouds. 

For the first time in possibly their whole life, Shouyou looked at them and did not wonder what it was like to be them, was not envious of their height and the amount of sky they had at their fingertips. Instead, Shouyou looked at all of them gathered above the treetops, above the clouds, and they wondered if Kageyama was among them. 

A cool breeze drifted into the room, ruffling Shouyou’s hair and caressing his face. Takeda tutted, flitting over to make sure the window was closed good and tight, but Shouyou reveled in the sensation. 

They’d never liked the cold before, even though they’d had several friends from the winter domain. But now, there was something about it that lured Shouyou, something about it that soothed them. Shouyou pretended they didn’t know what it was, pretended that it wasn’t unusual for a spring fairy to be so enraptured by something as cold as winter. 

But they knew it was odd, and they knew  _ why _ . 

(Kageyama’s hands were cold.)

-

Akaashi was the one to pick Shouyou up from the hospital, escorting them down the winding paths toward the part of the spring domain where the weed and wildflower fairies always worked. 

“We’ve missed you around the fields,” he said, his wings fluttering idly behind him as he walked. “It takes much longer without the extra manpower.”

“But I’m just one fairy,” Shouyou replied, a little confused. Akaashi shrugged. 

“Everybody plays a role in the seasons,” he replied. “Nobody’s irrelevant.”

Shouyou blinked, their feet stumbling to a stop. Akaashi halted a few paces ahead, turning back to frown at Shouyou. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “You aren’t in any pain, are you? Takeda told me you should be alright to work, but I can escort you to your home if you think you need more time to rest and recuperate.”

Shouyou shook their head. “No, it’s not—I’m fine. I was just a little surprised.”

Akaashi paused. “Surprised? By what?”

Shouyou shrugged. “I just didn’t think I was as important as you make me out to be.”

“Everybody’s important in some way,” Akaashi replied. “It’s just—sometimes it takes a moment to figure out in which way that is.” Akaashi led Shouyou to a small patch of flower buds waiting to bloom, patting Shouyou’s shoulder lightly. “Here. You can start working on these buds.”

Shouyou crouched down and closed their eyes, feeling the familiar buzz of an eager flower bud just waiting for its turn to blossom. They could hear Akaashi depart to his own section of the field, and they opened their eyes, swirling their arm in the familiar gesture that would free a flower from its bud. The flower burst to life, a splash of bright pink among a sea of green grass and green weeds. Shouyou allowed their mind to wander as they set to work, mindlessly going through the motions of helping wildflowers bloom as they contemplated.

What seemed like a million years ago, Akaashi told them that Shouyou was not a weed and wildflower fairy. He told Shouyou that they didn’t belong here, and they never would. But did that change, now that Shouyou had no chance of becoming a flower fairy again? Did that change, now that Shouyou didn’t have any wings? Or did Shouyou just not belong anywhere? Would Shouyou ever find their purpose, their calling? 

Despite everything Takeda had told them, Shouyou couldn’t help but wonder if this injury would be the end for them. Maybe breaking their wings was what would finally push Shouyou out of the Forest of the Fairies, maybe it’d finally be the last nail in the coffin deciding Shouyou’s fate. 

Maybe Shouyou wasn’t a fairy anymore. Maybe they were never meant to be.

“Hinata,” Akaashi said suddenly, drawing Shouyou out of their thoughts. Shouyou lifted their head and turned to look at Akaashi. 

“What?”

“Is something bothering you?” Akaashi continued. “You seem distracted.”

“I’m fine,” Shouyou lied. 

Akaashi raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You aren’t a very good liar.”

Shouyou sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

Akaashi gazed at him a moment longer before he finally raised his hands in apparent surrender. “I won’t force you to talk to me,” he said. “But you should talk to somebody if something really is troubling you. Keeping everything bottled up isn’t healthy.”

“Right,” Shouyou agreed. “I will. Thanks, Akaashi.”

Akaashi hummed. “Will you go over and help Aone with the dandelions?”

Shouyou nodded and jogged over to Aone and the dandelions, setting to work. They were careful to keep focused this time, though the question still lingered at the back of their mind.

Who was Shouyou, if they weren’t a flower fairy?

-

Shouyou paused where they’d been preparing dinner at the sound of a knock on the door, approaching the front door to peer out the window. Daichi and Suga stood on the other side, murmuring softly to one another. Shouyou pulled the door open, smiling up at their friends. 

“Hey guys!” they greeted. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

“We just wanted to stop by,” Daichi replied, stepping inside. Suga followed him in, before closing the door behind the two of them. “And see how you’re adjusting.”

“I’m fine,” Shouyou chirped, and it was only half of a lie. But Suga and Daichi didn’t need to know about all of the fears and doubts and worries that had been plaguing Shouyou’s mind ever since their injury.

“Are you sure?” Suga asked, fiddling with the hem of his tunic. “You seem a little out of it.”

Shouyou grinned, as wide and bright as they could manage. “Of course! I’m fine!”

Daichi frowned, squinting slightly. “You’re back at work?”

Shouyou nodded. “Yep, yep! I’m gonna be the best weed and wildflower fairy you’ve ever seen!”

Suga and Daichi exchanged glances. Daichi pressed his lips into a thin line, at the same time Suga scratched at a lock of hair tucked behind his ear. Shouyou recognized the tells—both of them were nervous habits their friends had adopted over the years. 

Shouyou hesitated. “Do you guys want tea?”

“No,” Suga said immediately. Too quickly. They were hiding something. “We don’t have time to stay for very long. We just wanted to check up on you.”

Daichi opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it and closed it again. Shouyou furrowed their brow, glancing between the two of them somewhat cautiously. What were they plotting? What did they know that Shouyou didn’t? 

“The council was talking,” Daichi finally said, avoiding eye contact. “And we think it’d be best if you spoke to someone who could properly understand what you’re going through.”

Shouyou blinked. “You—what?”

“There’s an autumn fairy,” Suga explained, “with broken wings. We think you should talk to them. They could—they could help.” 

“But—” Shouyou paused, their frown deepening. “How am I supposed to get there?”

“You could use a sparrow,” Suga suggested. “Or a robin. Those little guys always wanna help.”

Daichi nodded. “I can bring one to your house tomorrow.”

“I don’t get it, though,” Shouyou argued. “I’m  _ fine _ . Why do I need to talk to somebody about this?”

Suga and Daichi both leveled Shouyou with identical looks of skepticism. It was clear neither of them believed their excuses, but—

They weren’t entirely excuses. Shouyou broke their wings. Shouyou had them removed. Shouyou wasn’t in any pain anymore. Shouyou was  _ fine.  _ So why didn’t their friends seem to believe them?

“Just talk to them,” Suga pleaded. “Just once.”

Shouyou squinted up at him, but his face didn’t give away any of his reasoning, any of the answers Shouyou was looking for. “Fine,” Shouyou relented.

Suga smiled softly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” Shouyou mumbled, watching the two of them head for the door. They plopped down in a chair at their kitchen table, slumping forward onto the tabletop. Why couldn’t they have just been more careful? If only they hadn’t been foolish, if only they hadn’t been  _ reckless— _

None of this would be happening right now, and Shouyou wouldn’t feel an odd emptiness on their back and in their chest telling them that their life was over, and they only had themself to blame.

-

Shouyou stirred from a dreamless sleep when it was still dark out, sitting up with a snort and blinking the drowsiness out of their eyes. They wiped away the drool on their chin with the back of their sleeve, frowning as they glanced around to see what had woken them. Nothing seemed to be out of order in their home—in fact, it didn’t seem like there was any reason at all for Shouyou to be awake. 

There was a knock on the door.

Shouyou glanced at the door, furrowing their eyebrows. Whoever was on the other side knocked again, harder this time. Shouyou frowned and padded across the room to open the door just as the person started to knock again, resulting in their knuckles pounding against Shouyou’s forehead instead of the wooden door. Shouyou cursed softly, holding a hand against their smarting forehead. A quick glance upward told them that it was Kageyama standing on the other side of their door, scowling down at Shouyou with an odd glint in his eyes that almost seemed to resemble guilt. 

“Stupid-yama,” Shouyou huffed. “What was that for?”

“I didn't know it was you, obviously,” Kageyama retorted. “I thought you were the door.”

“I’m not a piece of wood,” Shouyou pointed out, stepping back to allow Kageyama access to their home. Kageyama stepped inside, glancing around. His posture was stiff, awkward. “Why’re you here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be getting your desperately-needed beauty sleep?”

Kageyama squinted down at them.

“I’m calling you ugly,” Shouyou deadpanned.

Kageyama punched them on the shoulder, smirking when Shouyou cried out. Shouyou moved to hold their shoulder instead of their forehead, following Kageyama over to their table to take a seat. They frowned across the table at Kageyama, watching as the winter fairy scanned the interior of Shouyou’s home, seemingly cataloguing every last detail. 

“What’re you looking at?” Shouyou demanded. “You got a problem with my house?”

“No, dumbass,” Kageyama snapped. “I’m just looking.”

Shouyou huffed, pouting as they massaged their shoulder. Eventually, Kageyama turned his attention from the house to Shouyou, squinting slightly. Shouyou stuck out their tongue, prompting Kageyama to roll his eyes, his scowl deepening.

“Why are you here?” Shouyou asked again, stifling a yawn. “It’s so  _ late.”  _

Kageyama pressed his lips into a thin line, glaring at something against the far wall and avoiding eye contact. Shouyou tilted their head to the side, wondering what Kageyama was so upset about. 

“Yama-yama?” they called, waving their hand in front of Kageyama’s face. Kageyama rolled his eyes again and turned to look at Shouyou, still glaring. “What’s going on?”

Kageyama opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally mumbled something Shouyou couldn’t quite pick up on. 

“Speak up, Yama-yama,” Shouyou said. “I can hardly hear you.”

Kageyama scoffed. After a few seconds, he said again, his voice stilted, “I was worried about you.”

Shouyou grinned. “What was that? I still can’t hear you.”

Kageyama scowled. “I  _ said,  _ I was worried—” He caught sight of Shouyou’s smirk, and his eyes widened slightly before his mouth snapped shut with an audible  _ click.  _ “I hate you,” he muttered. “Dumbass.”

“I know,” Shouyou replied. “But I don’t get it—why would you be worried about me?” they asked, tilting their head to the side. “I’m not with the healers anymore; I’m all better!” 

“You practically fucking died in front of me!” Kageyama exclaimed. “Do you know how hard it is to forget the sight of someone plummeting to the earth ‘cause they broke their wings?”

The house went impossibly silent. Shouyou stared up at Kageyama, their eyes wide, as Kageyama took in heavy breaths, his shoulders heaving with every inhale. Shouyou didn't know what to say to that, even though they knew enough to understand that that wasn’t the kind of admission one was supposed to leave hanging. They stood, slowly approaching Kageyama on the other side of the table, and waited to see if Kageyama would shove them away, but Kageyama remained perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the table’s surface. Shouyou wrapped their arms around Kageyama, pulling his head in to lean against Shouyou’s chest. Kageyama stiffened at the contact, but he eventually relaxed, leaning into Shouyou’s embrace. 

“I’m okay now,” Shouyou said softly, for lack of anything else to say. They gazed down at the top of Kageyama’s head, at his fluffy, dark hair, and their fingers twitched, longing to tangle through it, longing to smooth it down and run their hands through it. Being in love with Kageyama was hard when Kageyama was so clearly emotionally constipated, but Shouyou would force themself to be content with being friends. Being friends, and being here for Kageyama would have to be good enough. After all—any time spent with Kageyama was better than none, right?

“I know,” Kageyama mumbled. “But every time I close my eyes—” He broke off. Shouyou sighed. They held Kageyama close for a moment or two longer before they pulled away and reached down for one of Kageyama’s hands. 

“Come on,” they said. “It’s late.”

Kageyama frowned, though he allowed Shouyou to pull him to his feet. Shouyou began to lead Kageyama toward the bed pressed up against the far wall, at the same time Kageyama asked, “Where are we going?”

“To bed,” Shouyou declared. 

Kageyama furrowed his eyebrows. “What? But—you only have one bed.”

Shouyou shrugged, crawling into the bed and pulling back the covers, patting the spot beside them. “I don’t take up very much room.” 

Kageyama squinted. “Was that a short joke?”

Shouyou grinned. “It’s okay when I make them.”

Kageyama rolled his eyes, hesitating for less than a second before he caved and got into the bed with Shouyou. The two of them sat staring at each other for a few moments before Shouyou snickered and wriggled down beneath the covers, smiling up at Kageyama while they waited for the winter fairy to copy their actions. Once they were laying side by side again, Shouyou turned on their side to face Kageyama. Kageyama turned to look at Shouyou, too, his eyes expectant. 

“Did you really come because you were worried about me?” Shouyou whispered, their voice somehow still too loud in the quiet of the night. 

Kageyama was silent for several seconds before he averted his eyes and said, “No.”

Shouyou paused. “Why did you really come?” 

Kageyama didn’t respond for so long, Shouyou almost thought he’d fallen asleep, or that at the very least he wasn’t  _ going  _ to respond. But then—

“I missed you,” Kageyama breathed. “Dumbass.”

Shouyou stared, shell-shocked. 

Kageyama huffed and rolled onto his back. “Try not to kick me in your sleep, dumbass.” Ordinarily, Shouyou would’ve snapped back, but they were still too floored from Kageyama’s revelation. 

It wasn’t until Kageyama was asleep and snoring softly that Shouyou finally seemed to snap out of their trance. They stared at Kageyama’s sleeping face, their heart thundering in their chest.

“I missed you, too,” Shouyou murmured. “Goodnight, Yama-yama.”

-

Again, Shouyou was stirred from sleep by the sound of somebody knocking on their door. They blinked open their eyes, frowning as they lifted their head. It took them a moment to become aware of just  _ where  _ they were, and just  _ what  _ they were doing—their arms were wrapped around Kageyama’s waist, their face buried in Kageyama’s chest. Kageyama had his arms slung around Shouyou’s waist as well, his chin resting atop Shouyou’s head. Shouyou’s face burned, as they pondered how they could possibly maneuver their way out of this position without waking the grumpy winter fairy sharing their bed. 

And then, a voice called, “Hinata? Are you in there?”

Daichi. Shouyou cursed under their breath, giving up on trying to let Kageyama sleep. If Daichi saw them together, Shouyou would never live it down, not to mention they’d probably get in trouble for crossing seasonal domains so soon after Shouyou lost their wings. If Kageyama got in trouble and was never allowed to see Shouyou again—

Shouyou didn’t know  _ what  _ they’d do. 

“Come on, come on,” Shouyou muttered, poking Kageyama in the ribs repeatedly. Kageyama mumbled something in his sleep, swatting at Shouyou’s hand. “Yama-yama, wake  _ up,”  _ Shouyou implored, moving onto shaking the other fairy. Finally, Kageyama stirred and sat up, his hair sticking out in all directions. Under normal circumstances, Shouyou might’ve laughed at how ridiculous he looked. 

“Whaddya want?” Kageyama slurred, his eyes clouded with sleep. 

“Daichi’s here,” Shouyou blurted. “He’s supposed to take me to meet some autumn fairy today.” 

Kageyama frowned, furrowing his eyebrows. “Daichi, like, Head of the Seasons Council Daichi?”

“No, Daichi as in potato farmer Daichi,” Shouyou drawled. Kageyama squinted. “ _ Of course it’s seasons council Daichi!”  _

“Alright, alright,” Kageyama muttered, moving to get off the bed. “I’ll just leave before he sees me. It’s fine.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Shouyou hissed. “I only have one door!”

“Then I’ll hide until he’s gone,” Kageyama replied. 

Shouyou crossed their arms over their chest. “You’re gonna hide in my single room home? Where?”

“Well, what do you  _ want  _ me to do, dumbass?” Kageyama demanded. “Jump out the window?” 

Shouyou hesitated. Kageyama’s eyes narrowed. 

“No,” he deadpanned. “No, I refuse to jump out the window just to get away from Daichi.” 

Shouyou huffed. “Aw, c’mon, please? You still have wings—you can just fly!” 

“I’m not gonna jump out a window!” Kageyama insisted. 

Shouyou glared. “You know, if you get in trouble, Daichi’s gonna have to report you to the winter member of the seasons council. Who’s that again?” They paused. “Oikawa?” 

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. 

“How do I open the window?” Kageyama asked. Shouyou snickered, pushing Kageyama toward the window at the same time they approached the door. 

“I’m coming!” they called, so that Daichi wouldn’t try knocking again, or, God forbid, looking in through the window to see if Shouyou was even home. Kageyama pushed the window open before taking several steps back to allow himself a running start. He sailed through the open window just as Shouyou swung the door open, revealing Daichi and a crow standing on the other side.

Daichi frowned. “Did someone just jump out your window?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Shouyou lied. The crow, standing behind Daichi, squawked loudly.

Daichi furrowed his eyebrows, but he only sighed. “Whatever, I don’t even wanna know. I could only find a crow on such short notice. He should already know the way to the autumn domain, and once there, Suga can lead you the rest of the way. Sound good?”

“Cool!” Shouyou chirped. “I’ve always wondered what it was like to let someone else do the flying for me. Does the crow have a name?”

Daichi blinked. “Uh, no?”

Shouyou gasped. “You didn’t  _ name him?  _ That’s so rude!” 

“What if he has his own name?” Daichi challenged. “Where do we get off trying to change it?”

Shouyou looked at the crow. “Do you already have a name?” 

The crow shook its head. 

Shouyou turned to stick their tongue out at Daichi. 

Daichi sighed. “Just get on the crow, will you? You can name it on the way.”

“Okay,” Shouyou agreed, allowing Daichi to help hoist them into the small saddle positioned on the crow’s back. Once they were settled, Daichi took several steps back and watched as the crow flexed its wings, preparing for flight. 

“Try not to get into trouble,” Daichi said. “Have a good flight.” 

Daichi whistled sharply, and the crow unfurled its wings and took off. Shouyou shrieked, just barely managing to remain in the saddle as the bird soared up to the clouds and beyond, flying faster than Shouyou even knew was possible. Shouyou white-knuckled the saddle, until the crow’s flight evened out just above the clouds, close enough that Shouyou could reach out and touch them. They weren’t as fluffy as they’d always imagined—the clouds dissipated like mist in Shouyou’s hand, leaving their fingertips cold and wet. The sun on Shouyou’s face was warmer and closer than Shouyou had ever felt, the air rushing past louder than a clap of thunder. 

Shouyou wasn’t even the one doing the flying, and still they felt freer than they ever had in their life. 

The crow dove downward as they neared the telltale crimson and orange trees of the autumn domain, slowing its flight the closer they came to the ground. The bird landed gracefully, turning to nudge Shouyou off of the saddle with its beak. Shouyou slid to the ground, steadying themself before they turned to look at the crow. 

“I’m gonna call you Zoom!” they declared. “Do you like that name?”

Zoom the crow squawked his approval, patting Shouyou on the head with his beak.

Suga chuckled as he approached Shouyou and the crow, a fond grin on his face. “You named the crow?”

“Daichi said I could!” Shouyou huffed, pouting slightly. 

Suga looked to Zoom. “Do you like your new name?”

Again, Zoom cawed loudly. Suga laughed. 

“Can’t argue with that, I guess,” he said. To Shouyou, he said, “C’mon. The person you’re meeting is already waiting by the harvest fields.”

“Harvest fields?” Shouyou asked. “It’s not Ukai, is it? ‘Cause I’ve already met Ukai and he already gave me advice, so this—”

“It’s not Ukai,” Suga interrupted. “Ukai doesn’t have broken wings, remember?”

“I wouldn’t call them broken,” a new voice said. Suga jerked around, at the same time Shouyou glanced to their left and gaped up at a fairy sitting on—was that a  _ fox? _

“Kita!” Suga greeted. “I thought we were meeting at the harvest fields.”

“It’s hard to miss a black bird plummetin’ to the ground,” Kita replied. “I figured I’d meet ya over here.” 

Suga grinned. “This is Hinata Shouyou.”

Kita turned to Shouyou. “Hello, Hinata Shouyou. I’m Kita Shinsuke.”

“You have a fox,” Shouyou said, for lack of anything else to say. “You’re—you’re  _ riding  _ a fox.” 

“Yes,” Kita said, nodding. 

Shouyou shook their head. “ _ What?”  _

“He helps me get around,” Kita told Shouyou. “Kind of like yer crow—Zoom, was it?—helped ya get to me.” Kita paused for a moment, seeming to weigh a decision in their mind, before they said, “Would you like to join me?”

“Would I—would I like to join you,” Shouyou echoed, “on a  _ fox.”  _

Kita waited, their face calm and patient. They were unlike any fairy Shouyou had ever met; Shouyou didn’t think they’d ever met someone so mild-mannered. Even Kenma, who was known for being quiet and of few words, was more brash than this fairy. 

“Sure,” Shouyou finally said, their voice wavering slightly. The fox was big enough to swallow them whole if it wanted to, but it sat waiting patiently as Suga helped Shouyou onto the animal’s back behind Kita. Kita glanced back to make sure Shouyou was settled properly, then turned their gaze to Suga. 

“Will ya be joinin’ us?” they asked. Suga shook his head. 

“Nah,” he said. “I’ve got some leaves to paint. I’ll meet you back here around—”

“Before sunset,” Kita interrupted. “I remember. Thank ya for yer help.”

“Don’t mind,” Suga replied. He turned to offer Shouyou a smile and a wave before he flitted off toward the grove of trees in need of repainting, leaving Shouyou alone with a mild-mannered fairy unlike anyone Shouyou had met, a crow named Zoom, and a fox that could probably eat Shouyou if it got too hungry.

This was fine.

“He won’t eat ya,” Kita said, as the fox started moving. Shouyou blinked; were they a mind reader? How did they know what Shouyou had been thinking? “He likes berries best, anyway. Fairies are too gritty.” 

Shouyou swallowed thickly. 

“That was a joke,” Kita clarified. “I’ve been told I shouldn’t make jokes—they never seem to land properly.” 

“It’s fine,” Shouyou said. “You should make jokes if they’re funny to you.”

Kita hummed. “But isn’t the point of a joke to make someone  _ else  _ laugh?”

Shouyou shrugged. “Says who?” 

Kita was quiet for a moment. “Fair point.”

Kita shifted slightly, their weight repositioning. It was only then that Shouyou fully registered Kita’s appearance—they’d known coming to this meeting that Kita had no functioning wings; that was the whole reason Shouyou was  _ here.  _ But it was only as they were riding the fox further into the autumn domain that Shouyou fully realized that Kita still  _ had  _ their wings, but they were—they were unlike any wings Shouyou had ever seen. One shriveled and shrunken, appearing as though it had never formed properly, and the other sticking out at an odd angle from Kita’s back, it was blatantly obvious to Shouyou how wings like that would never be able to work properly. Shouyou wondered why Kita hadn’t chosen to have them removed; did it hurt to have their wings deformed like that? It had to be at the very least uncomfortable, right? 

“‘S not polite to stare,” Kita said softly. “Yer eyes are burnin’ holes into my back.”

Shouyou tore their gaze away from Kita, turning to look up at Zoom following along after the fox from above. “Sorry,” they blurted. “I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” Kita interrupted. “I’m used to it.”

“That sucks,” Shouyou said, for lack of anything else to say. 

Kita hummed but didn’t otherwise respond. Shouyou watched the landscape pass, wondering just where Kita was taking them. The fox seemed to know the path well, as if it had walked this journey a million times before. They passed the harvest fields, passed the painting grove, even passed the neighborhoods full of fairy homes. 

“Where are we going?” Shouyou finally asked, when they’d passed into a part of the Fairy Forest Shouyou had never ventured before. They’d never had a reason to travel out this far; even their autumn fairy friends tended to meet them closer to the border, for everyone’s safety. But there was no point in worrying, now—neither Shouyou nor Kita had any wings to protect. 

“My fox likes it back here,” Kita said, petting the fox gently for a few seconds and prompting a pleased noise out of the creature. It wasn’t quite a purr, but not quite a growl. Shouyou had never heard anything like it. “There’s a berry grove he likes to lay in.” 

“Oh,” Shouyou said. They glanced down at the fox beneath them, but they didn’t think it would like it if he tried to pet it. 

“We can talk more once we get there,” Kita said. The two of them lapsed into silence again, the only sounds being the distant noises of fairies hard at work, the whistling of the wind, and the calls of forest animals searching for company. A bird chirped somewhere overhead, a softly lilting tune following. It was peaceful here, far more peaceful than any place in the spring domain Shouyou had ever been to. The only thing they could compare it to was that day by the lake with Oikawa in the winter domain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity weaving through the forest, the fox brought them to a small clearing lined with bushes all decorated with bright, red berries. Kita slid off of the fox’s back and to the ground, Shouyou following close behind. Shouyou watched as Kita reached up to pat the fox’s nose, smiling and nodding slightly. “Go on,” they said. “You deserve a snack.”

The fox made that happy noise again, bounding over to the nearest berry bush to begin eating. Shouyou noticed Zoom perched himself on a branch near the edge of the clearing, seemingly observing their every move. Kita watched their fox for a moment longer, then turned to walk to the nearest tree and take a seat. They leaned back against the tree trunk, closing their eyes as they patted the space beside them invitingly.

Shouyou hesitated for less than a second. They sat down next to Kita, pressing their lips into a thin line and keeping their gaze trained on the ground. They didn’t want to get reprimanded for staring again; Kita was intimidating, despite being so soft-spoken. 

“I was born like this,” Kita said suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled over the grove. Shouyou turned to look at them, waiting for them to say more. “They think it was because of the wish I was born from.”

“What do you mean?” Shouyou breathed, their voice somehow echoing too loudly in the otherwise silent forest. 

Kita opened their eyes, but they didn’t look at Shouyou, instead kept their gaze trained on their fox. It took Shouyou a moment to identify the emotion in Kita’s eyes—it wasn’t pain, or grief, or anger, or any other bitter emotion Shouyou might’ve initially suspected. Kita’s eyes were warm, like the golden honey they shared a color with. They did not hate their wings, or the wish they were born from for making them like this. Kita was—content. That’s what the emotion was. 

Shouyou didn’t know how that was even possible. How could anybody possibly be happy while being incomplete?

“I’m not incomplete, yanno. I’m not broken,” Kita started. Shouyou stiffened. “I can tell that’s what yer thinkin’. That’s what everybody thinks when they see me.”

Shouyou waited for them to say more. 

“My wings have always looked like this,” Kita continued. “This is exactly who I was always goin’ to be. I don’t need to fly to feel like I am whole. If not havin’ wings was wrong, then I wouldn’t have been born this way.”

Shouyou swallowed thickly. “Then why don’t—why don't you have them removed? Don’t they hurt?”

Kita shrugged. “Not terribly. I like them, anyhow. They’re a part of who I am.”

“Right,” Shouyou said slowly. “Because every fairy has to have wings.”

“That’s not what I said,” Kita refuted. “I said that my deformed wings are a part of me. Not because they’re wings, but because who I am today has been formed by the things I have gone through. Includin’ everythin’ I had to learn to do without wings.”

Shouyou was quiet for a moment. “But isn’t it—isn’t it weird to be a fairy who can’t fly?”

“Not particularly,” Kita said. “Yanno what’s weird?”

“What?” Shouyou asked. 

“My boyfriend is an autumn fairy like me, but his twin brother is a summer fairy,” Kita replied. “ _ That’s _ weird. Being a fairy who can’t fly is just—one of those things.”

“One of what things?” Shouyou asked.

“One of those things that shape me into the person I am,” Kita told them. They turned to look at Shouyou, their gaze level despite the soft smile playing on their lips. “One of those things that shape you into who  _ you  _ are. You may not realize it now, but—” They paused, smiling softly. “It’s not so bad down here.” 

Shouyou paused, allowing Kita’s words to reverberate in their brain. Finally, they asked, “You have a boyfriend?”

Kita chuckled. “I do,” they said. “His name’s Osamu.”

“What does he do?” Shouyou asked. 

“Fruit harvest,” Kita replied. “His favorite are the apples.”

Shouyou opened their mouth to speak, but a new voice cut them off.

“Kita,” the voice called. “C’mere, I wanna have ya try somethin—”

Both Kita and Shouyou turned to face the newcomer. He stopped near the edge of the clearing, glancing between Kita and Shouyou. 

“Oh, sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize ya were still with the kid.”

Kita’s eyes softened, a fond smile on their face. “They’re only a year younger than you, Osamu.” 

Shouyou’s eyes widened. Kita’s  _ boyfriend?  _

Osamu nodded sagely. “Practically a toddler, I know.”

Shouyou frowned. “I’m not a toddler,” they said. They squinted at Osamu. “Was that a short joke?”

Kita chuckled. “Go back home, Osamu,” they said. “I’ll meet ya there.” 

Osamu nodded, turning and flying off back into the forest. Shouyou turned to look up at Kita, who was once again watching the fox instead of Shouyou. Their eyes drifted up to Zoom sitting in the tree, the fond smile never fading from their lips. “Is there anythin’ else ya wanna talk about?”

Shouyou hesitated. “That was your boyfriend?”

Kita nodded. 

Shouyou wrinkled their nose. Kita laughed. 

“Don’t make that face,” they chastised, still smiling. “He’s a real sweetheart when ya get to know him.”

Shouyou wondered if Kageyama would be a sweetheart on the inside, or if the prickly exterior was really all he had to offer.

“Have ya ever been in love, Hinata?” Kita asked, their voice light. 

“No,” Shouyou lied. 

Kita hummed. “Well, if ya ever find yerself in love—don’t be afraid of it, okay? Yer heart ain’t tryin’ to hurt ya. It just wants ya to be happy.” 

Shouyou didn’t know what to say to that. 

Kita tipped their head toward the sky, humming again. “We should probably begin headin’ back. It’ll be sunset soon.” They stood, stretching before they turned to offer Hinata a hand up. “Ridin’ with me or the crow?”

“I’ll take Zoom,” Shouyou told them.

Kita nodded. “Sounds good,” they said. “It was nice meetin’ ya, Hinata. I hope ya find whatever it is ya think ya’ve lost.” 

They whistled for the fox, climbing expertly up onto its back before they offered Shouyou one last smile and wave before the fox took off back toward the main part of the autumn domain. Shouyou lingered in the grove, even as Zoom flew down to the ground and nudged them.

Kita’s words cut Shouyou closer to their core than they would’ve thought they could. Did Shouyou really lose something? Or did they just convince themself that they did? Are they really still themself, still a fairy without wings? Or were they just afraid to acknowledge that maybe the one thing they’ve always been good at—

The only thing they were ever good at might not be the one thing they were meant to do. And if that was the case, then—what  _ were  _ they supposed to do?

-

When Zoom finally dropped Shouyou off at their home that evening, there was a light on inside the house that made Shouyou pause. They hadn’t left any lights on when they left; it’d been daylight when Shouyou first set out for the autumn domain with Zoom. Shouyou clenched their hands into fists and used their foot to push the door open, scanning the interior of their home for anything out of place. It wasn’t until their eyes reached the table that they spotted the discrepancy:

Kageyama was sitting at Shouyou’s table, resting with his head in his arms on the tabletop. Shouyou squinted. Was he asleep? 

Shouyou kicked the door shut, the loud bang startling Kageyama awake. 

“Did you break into my house?” Shouyou asked. 

Kageyama huffed and looked away. 

“You broke into my house!” Shouyou accused. “You can’t do that! What if you robbed me? How could I ever trust you again?”

“If I was robbing you, you probably wouldn’t need to trust me,” Kageyama pointed out. Shouyou blinked. Kageyama rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t need to trust me because we wouldn’t be friends anymore, dumbass.”

Shouyou huffed, trudging over to sit next to Kageyama at the table. They dropped their head onto Kageyama’s shoulder. “Why d’you always have to be mean to me, Yama-yama?”

“You deserve it,” Kageyama replied. Shouyou sighed. Kageyama shifted awkwardly, though he seemed to be trying not to disturb Shouyou. Shouyou’s heart squeezed at the observation. “How was your meeting?”

Shouyou hummed. “Fine,” they said. “Kita rides a fox to get around, which was crazy, ‘cause I totally thought it was gonna eat me.” 

Kageyama snorted. 

“They did say something, though,” Shouyou started, “that was—it wasn’t weird, but it made me think.”

Kageyama paused. “What’d they say?”

Shouyou licked their lips, hesitating. Could they even say something like that out loud? “They said—they said being a fairy without wings isn’t weird. They said it was just a part of who I am.” 

Kageyama was quiet for so long, Shouyou lifted their head to make sure Kageyama had really heard them. Kageyama was looking at them strangely, his facial expression a mix of “you’re so fucking stupid” and “did you really not know that?”

“Of course it’s not weird,” Kageyama huffed. “The only weird part is that you seem to think not having wings makes you lesser.”

Shouyou meant to respond, but their mouth was too dry for words to flow.

Kageyama shook his head, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a dumbass,” he said. “You’re still a fairy, wings or no. Now you’re just a short fairy with no redeeming qualities.” Shouyou punched him on the arm. Kageyama scowled, rubbing the spot where Shouyou had hit him, and amended, “I meant no redeeming qualities with your flying ability, dumbass. You’re still good at your job, and stuff.”

Shouyou sighed, dropping their head back onto Kageyama’s shoulder. “You’re so mean, Yama-yama. So mean and emotionally constipated. Why am I even in love with you?”

Silence fell over the house like a vacuum, as Shouyou realized just what they’d said. They lifted their head, and watched as Kageyama slowly and mechanically turned to look down at them, his eyes wide. 

“You  _ what?”  _ he hissed. 

Shouyou floundered. “I—uh—I—” They took a deep breath. What was it Kita had told them? Don’t be afraid of love? Well, fine. Shouyou stowed their fear, and repeated, “I’m in love with you, Kageyama.” 

Kageyama remained perfectly still and perfectly silent for so long, Shouyou thought he might’ve died.

“Kageyama?” Shouyou called. They waved their hand in front of Kageyama’s face, whistling. “Yoo-hoo, Yama-yama. Anybody home?” 

Kageyama grabbed Shouyou’s wrist and held it in front of his face. He opened and closed his mouth several times, his lips forming words even though no sound came out. Shouyou tugged on their wrist, but Kageyama didn’t let up on his tight grip. 

“You’re in love with me,” Kageyama finally said. Shouyou nodded. “You. Are in love with  _ me.”  _

“Yes,” Shouyou agreed. 

Kageyama frowned. “Like—romantic love? You wanna kiss me?”

“Only if you want me to,” Shouyou replied. 

Kageyama scrunched up his face, clearly thinking about  _ something,  _ though Shuyou didn’t know what. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, he said, “Okay.”

Shouyou blinked. “Okay?”

“Are you gonna kiss me or what, dumbass?” Kageyama demanded. Shouyou’s eyes widened, at the same time Kageyama grabbed them by the front of their shirt and pulled them in for a kiss. It wasn’t nice, by any means—Kageyama was rough, his touch the bruising kind, and their teeth and noses bumped too many times for it to still feel like a good kiss, but—

Shouyou was kissing  _ Kageyama _ . They didn’t really see how it could possibly get any better than that. 

“You love me, too?” Shouyou asked when they pulled away. 

“Of course I do,” Kageyama huffed. “Dumbass.”

Shouyou was too giddy to care about the insult.

-

“I don’t get it,” Shouyou said, dismounting from Zoom’s saddle and following Daichi up to the tree where, so many months ago, they were demoted from what they thought was their only purpose in life. It was strange to come back here when they knew they were so different than they used to be—they had a boyfriend now, and they were one of the best weed and wildflower fairies the spring domain had ever seen, according to Akaashi.

They didn’t even recognize the person they knew they once were, but Shouyou didn’t really feel all that bad about it. Just like Kita had told them—they were exactly who they were meant to be. It just took them a minute to realize. 

“Why are we here?” Shouyou continued. “Am I in trouble?”

Daichi laughed. “No, it’s not that.”

Shouyou frowned. “Then what’s this about?”

“You’ll see,” Daichi promised. He didn’t say anything else, just continued leading Shouyou up to the hollow in the tree where the seasons council held their most important meetings. Once they arrived, Shouyou saw that not only was the rest of the seasons council waiting, but several other fairies as well, including Kageyama. 

Shouyou moved to stand next to their boyfriend in front of the council, as Daichi took his seat alongside all of the other council members.

“You’re probably wondering why we brought you here,” Daichi started. “And I’d like to start by assuring you all that none of you are in trouble.”

Shouyou glanced at the line-up of fairies standing with him. They didn’t recognize all of them, but they spotted a summer fairy that looked a lot like Kita’s boyfriend, and an autumn fairy with what seemed like streaks of red lining his wings. There was another winter fairy with white hair and odd lines around his eyes that Shouyou couldn’t name off the top of their head, in addition to Kageyama and themself all standing in the line. 

“As you know,” Oikawa started, steepling his fingers in front of him, “the seasons council is a revolving council. After a certain amount of years, the old council members are told to choose new council members to take their place.”

Shouyou furrowed their eyebrows. 

“Congratulations,” Suga said. “Atsumu, Suna, Kageyama, Hinata, Hoshiumi—you’ve all been elected to the seasons council of the fairies, should you choose to accept your position. We know you’ll do great things.” He smirked. “Just as long as you stay out of trouble.”

“Do you accept?” Kuroo asked. The others all chorused their confirmations, but Shouyou was still reeling. They wanted—they wanted  _ them?  _ The wingless fairy who was stupid enough to break their own wings and ruin their own life?

But—they didn’t ruin their life. In fact, their life was significantly better now than it ever had been before their injury. Maybe Kita really had been onto something when they said that not having wings was just another one of Shouyou’s quirks. Clearly they didn’t  _ need  _ them if the seasons council was telling Shouyou they want  _ them,  _ even if they are the only one without wings.

“Hinata?” Daichi asked. “Do you accept?”

Shouyou opened their mouth to speak. The others in the room all glanced at them, but Shouyou really only cared about Kageyama’s gaze.  _ Meet me where I am,  _ Kageyama’s eyes seemed to say.

Shouyou clenched their hands into fists at their sides. “I accept.”

They glanced at Kageyama.  _ I’m here.  _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> HOO BOY
> 
> this was written for the kagehina big bang, my first big bang! i'm really proud of how it turned out (even though it is significantly longer than i originally planned lol). this bang was a lot of fun and i made a lot of great friends through it, so im really grateful to the mods for creating it :,)
> 
> check out the absolutely fantastic art for this piece right [ here](https://twitter.com/king_kwazy/status/1340366873011974151?s=20)  
> BIG THANK U TO MY LOVELY BETA CAIA, WHOMST U CAN FIND RIGHT [ HERE](https://izucaii.carrd.co/)
> 
> ANOTHER BIG THANK U TO MY LOVELY ARTIST JJ, WHOMST U CAN FIND [ HERE](https://king-kwazy.tumblr.com/)
> 
> and, as always, talk to me on [tumblr](https://fake-charliebrown.tumblr.com/), [twitter](https://twitter.com/fakecharlieb), or check out my [carrd](https://fakecharliebrown.carrd.co/)
> 
> be gay do crime see u next time B)


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